


The Written Word

by The_Writing_Hyena



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Aged Up Asriel, Aged Up Chara, Aged-Up Frisk (Undertale), Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Mobfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Angst with a Happy Ending, Bara Sans (Undertale), Chara and Frisk are best friends, Conspiracy, Electro Swing, F/M, Graphic Description of Corpses, Graphic Violence, Heavy Angst, Inspective Journalism, Journalist Frisk, Murder, Murder Mystery, Poor Frisk (Undertale), Possessive Sans (Undertale), Singer/Performer Chara, Undertale Monsters on the Surface, dead children
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2019-07-03 01:24:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15808479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Writing_Hyena/pseuds/The_Writing_Hyena
Summary: Frisk had to be either really brave, or a special kind of stupid to stick her nose where it didn't belong. That's what everyone thought when she got herself involved with the Conway Case. Where the police had left it alone, Frisk saw rage, and an opportunity. An opportunity to give justice to a family through the written word.But the deeper she searches, the darker the tunnel gets, filled with sharp twists and betrayal. Everything she thought she knew is turned on it's head, and her life is on the line. Things certainly don't get easier when she attracts the attention of the most notorious crime boss, or when Death himself begins to chase after her. Will Frisk unearth the truth of the Conway Murder? Or will she join the ranks of bodies at the bottom of Ghost lake?





	1. The Conway Case

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by Staringbacks Sooner or Later, it's really amazing, so you might see a few similarities, but that's cool. 
> 
> But on topic, Hey thanks for clicking on this story! I LOVE the 20s, and I love the mafia (not in a romanticising way, it was fucked up, but I just love the history), and I love Electro Swing, but more importantly I love Undertale, it's a good game, and I have a lot of ideas and headcanons that I'mma just throw around. I had fallen out of love with the game because it's notorious and infamous fandom, but I couldn't stay away. So I really hope you like this! Sit back and enjoy the ride.
> 
> Also, I want to like, share music through this story, and certain songs match the mood of a chapter, so I'll put that in the top of the chapter.

 [The Wolf Sings At Midnight](https://youtu.be/JKPD8jChw94)

 

 

"What do you  _mean_ they are shutting down the investigation? That fucker who killed them is still out there," cried Frisk, a small woman, her auburn hair a short and unkempt mess around her face from having ran all the way to the little police station from her work to confront one of the officers, James to be exact, who was now briskly walking down the hall of the station. 

"Frisk, sweetheart, listen, we did our best, hell, I'm angry about it even, but there's nothing we can do," he said in exasperation at her questions. She scoffed, unsatisfied by the answer.  _'Bullshit they did their best! They went to the crime scene, said the Conways were murdered and then they left! They didn't even try to go after the murderers!'_ she thought bitterly. 

"Well, what do you know about the murder? Like, what do you think happened?" she asked. She always hung around James when something awful like this happened, he seemed to know everything, and he knew she wanted to be a real reporter, not just some Vaudeville reviewer, so he usually just gave her vague responses about what he thought happened, and it usually shut her up. However, she was a lot more passionate about this one murder than he had ever seen her get before. 

"What is the deal? This kind of stuff happens all the time," he sighed, running a hand through his dirty blonde hair that he hadn't washed in days. She scoffed, and reached out, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt and jerking him around to face her. His green eyes widened and he pursed his lips to hide his frown of disapproval. This woman! She fumed back at him, her brow knitted in anger. 

"The big deal is that nothing ever happens! The sickos always get away, there is no justice! And...And..." she stammered, her throat beginning to tighten as her big brown eyes began to well with tears. She was a regular visitor to their family candy store, she knew their kids, who had always been begging their dad to let it slip once, to let them have  _one_ sugar coated orange, or just  _one_ box of chocolates. Why them!? Why of all people were  _they_ killed? She knew a lot of lousy people but the Conways were  _not_ one of them. 

James's face softened and he sighed ruffling her hair like a big brother would his little sister. She pushed his hands away and fixed her hair, even if it was a bit tangled and looked like a rat nest sitting on top of her head. James rolled his eyes and shoved his hands in his pockets. 

"Look, Chief Sullivan didn't see the need to continue the investigation. My guess is they didn't pay pay up on a collection date or somethin', or maybe they did somethin' their landlord didn't like I don't know! Listen, Frisk, stay out of it. If I hear you went to the crime scene or somethin', fuck I don't know I'd uh, hire a spy to watch you," he said, giving his hand a small wave to dismiss her. Frisk narrowed her eyes at his condescending tone.  _'Well..when you say it like that...it makes me want to go even more,'_ she spat, but kept the words to herself. She smiled tensely at her brotherly figure and nodded. 

"Well, I wouldn't want you stalking me, so fine, I'll stay out of it. Back to the flowers I go," she said, her tone betraying the fake smile. James sighed and nodded. 

"Good, just, for once, leave it alone. The case is closed," he said, before he turned and finished his trek, leaving her alone in the small police station. She glanced around and growled, stomping out of the building.  _'Well...God helps those who help themselves,'_ she thought, pursing her lips to hide her smirk as she began the trek to her apartment.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ebbot City was a gigantic metropolis that covered the lone mountain from top to bottom, and inside and out. It sat on the Atlantic Ocean, right on the cape of Massachusetts. Factories surrounded the city, smogging up the sky like one big barrier to the outside world. Rent was cheap, unlike many other cities just as big who's price of living was beyond payable, so it attracted masses of poor families every year.

Yet, it wasn't known for it's cheap rent, or it's ever black sky, but the fact it was the sanctuary city of Monsters. The population of monsters was through the roof. Of course when you pack together tens of thousands of poor families, mostly immigrants, and ginormous monsters who could give any human nightmares, together, in one tightly packed city, things got tense. Really tense. Tense as in, Frisk getting woken up at ungodly hours because of the firing of guns kind of tense...And then...the gangs formed, this of course had happened way before Frisk was even born, but she lived it every day.

Then those gangs became larger, and larger until they were full on mobs. There were five total human mafia families, and only a whopping two monster crime families. Yet, for some reason, the monsters had this city by the balls, their crime organizations snuffed out any human opponents, and eventually no one challenged them, except for themselves. When monsters fought, the city shook, and everyone felt it. Of course the second monster family was a bit of a new installment, and it had grew in her lifetime, in fact in just five years. She knew nothing about them. No one really did. All they knew about them was that they kept the Dreemurs' power in check. Rumor had it that the family was only ran by three people, well monsters.

However, despite the racial differences, and the strange family dynamics, one thing was constant. The cost of housing was low, but the cost of living was high. The Conways could tell anyone that first hand. 

Frisk stopped as she came across the familiar road, looking up at the sign that went unlit, and a  _closed down_ sign hanging on the door. Her beloved candy store, he beloved Conways. She felt tears rise in her eyes. She'd never hear Mrs. Conway's motherly voice as she worried over Frisk, or her children. She'd never get to laugh at Mr. Conway's light hearted jokes, or have one of his signature Conway Chocolate boxes again. She'd never hear those two kids fight over which was better, baseball or boxing, even if the two sports had nothing similar to each other. 

Frisk swallowed and turned away from the store, hurrying down her street. She slowed down and glanced back behind her, brow furrowing. She glanced down at her purse, which held her keys, money and most importantly, her journal and she looked back up. 

"I'll make this right..." she whispered, clutching her purse, before continuing on her way. Her apartment complex was packed, and red bricked, the windows closed tight, some broken, some with flowers growing in boxes. Off to the side was a large fire escape that trailed up the front of the building like a giant green scar. Outside of the building was a strange black cadillac, the windows tinted. She furrowed her brow, but didn't think to much on it, shaking it away as she entered the building and made her way upstairs to her floor. 

It was then, when she watched two men clothed in rich looking suits disappear in the stairwell, that she realized what the car meant. Her breathing hitched and she began to sprint down the hall, clutching her purse close to her. Her eyes widened as loud thundering footsteps echoed over head, a scream from above, and then the footsteps grew louder as they began dragging the man down. Frisk pulled out her keys, fumbling with them. If they saw anyone had witnessed them come and go, she would join the unfortunate man. She swung her door open and vaulted inside, quietly closing the door behind her and letting out a sigh of relief, as she twisted the lock. She smiled at the satisfying click. 

"Frisk! Oh shit, I was so worried, they came for Henry!" cried Chara, Frisk's room mate, as she raced into the small living room. Unlike most days, she wasn't caked with makeup, her pink skin, and the burn on her jaw sitting in plain sight, which only meant that the usually active girl had been holed up inside all day. Frisk's eyes widened and she raced to the window, pulling back the curtains as the two men dragged out the old man. Henry was most commonly known around the flat for cooking huge bowls of stew and then opening his doors for parties. He had family in the country who sent him ingredients from their farm, and he was a sweet man, although poor as dirt. It was commonly known that he worked for a construction company, but no one really knew. No. Not Henry, they couldn't do this! 

Before she could think, she vaulted out the door, Chara yelping in surprise. 

"Frisk! What the hell are you doing!?" she cried, jumping up and chasing after her. The small woman was fast however, ran like a bullet. She flew down the stairs, Chara close behind her. Frisk burst out of the doors as the men kicked Henry to his knees and brought out a gun. 

"Wait! Wait!" cried Frisk. Henry couldn't die! She couldn't lose another kind soul to this damn City! Before she could do anything, two gunshots rang out. It was like time stopped, Frisk's eyes widening in horror as she watched the poor old man fall to the ground, half his head blown out. Blood began to leak from his forehead, and she caught his eyes, full of pain. She could feel her knees buckle, and if it weren't for Chara, she would've collapsed on the ground. 

The two men turned to Frisk and Chara, baring their guns. Quickly, the women dropped to the ground, Frisk's eyes wide as her body shook at what she had witnessed. 

"Please, we...we didn't mean anything...please," stammered Chara. Frisk squeezed her eyes shut. she had failed to save the Conways, and she had failed to save the kindest old man in their apartment. One of the men, properly known around the complex as Porky, approached them with narrowed eyes. He was known as porky because of his chubby body, greasy skin and upturned nose that largely resembled a pig. Not to mention he was a total pig of a man, so that didn't help with the eventual nickname. 

Now he was standing over her, starring down as the two women were on their knees pleading for their life. A shudder went up her spine when she realized this must have been just wonderful to a man like him. 

"Alright, we won't kill ya, we like an audience right Robby? But just because of that stunt you pulled...your protection fee next pay date just doubled," he said, pulling a cigar out of his coat pocket and sticking it between his disgusting, yellow teeth. Frisk felt her heart drop at the demand, and she could practically feel Chara's glare. They could barely pay the fee that was already up, not to mention she still had rent to their actual landlord. The two men laughed and walked away, picking up Henry's body and tossing him into the trunk of their car, before gassing away. 

Frisk let out a choked sob, curling over herself, and covering her face. Chara helped her up and the two left to go inside. Another soul taken by Ebbot. Nothing seemed to get better. 

"I swear to God...the next time I see that pig, I'll kill him," growled Chara. Frisk glanced up at her as they sat mournfully in their living room. Chara liked to talk a lot of smack when she wasn't being confronted head on. She had hardly actually stood up for anything she believed in, always going along with her morals in the shadows. SHe cussed out the bosses behind their backs, but when they turned around she was all smiles and a stammering mess. Frisk knew it wasn't her fault. The scar on her jaw wasn't an accident, and it didn't need to happen again. 

"I'll help you hide the body," she said with a supportive smile, still fighting back her tears from earlier. What was wrong with people? That man didn't do anything wrong, and neither did the Conways. 

Chara chuckled wryly, toying with the ring at her finger nervously. They were both avoiding the topic at hand. A doubled protection fee? How the hell were they supposed to pay that? It was complete bullshit. 

"We could pawn off the armchair," suggested Frisk as she got up to get ready for tonight. She had plans to go to the Conway residence at the edge of the neighborhood, just like James had told her not to do. She almost laughed at the concept. She needed answers. She needed that family to have closure, they deserved it.

The two women glanced at the large sky blue chair that sat in the corner near the radio, a large quilt draped over the top. Chara bristled at the suggestion. They had received that from a good friend, and it was one of the only nice things the two women owned. 

"I'll get another gig—"

"Chara you already work so hard...I'll work a shift at the bar this week," interrupted Frisk. The two smiled sadly at each other. A small mutual agreement passed through them, they'll make it. Despite all odds, they'd make it. 

"So...I...I have an assignment. Something really...risky, but, it needs to be done," said Frisk. Chara furrowed her brow with piqued interest, a signal for her friend to go on. 

"I want to investigate the Conway murder. I want to give them...closure," she said. Chara's eyes widened. 

"You've never done that before...and it's dangerous. Besides, it's pretty simple what happened to them. Obviously they got on Porky's nerves," she said, hiding her face in her hands as the realistic words spewed from her mouth. Frisk paced, looking out of the window to the street where only moments before, Henry had been murdered out of cold blood. She held back bile. 

Still. There was something more. This may have been Porky's side of town, but, everyone knew his style. When he wanted to kill someone, he made a public example of them out of the street. He never killed women or children either, which was probably the only noble thing about him. 

"No no...they were killed in their own home. It wasn't Porky," she said, her brow furrowed in thought. Chara scrunched her nose in thought. 

"Huh...you're right," she murmured. Frisk nodded, running a nervous hand through her hair. 

"I...I'm gonna go to their house tonight and—"

"Snoop around for clues? Count me in," snapped Chara, standing up and getting her coat. Frisk furrowed her brow but shrugged. 

"Ok then, perfect, I could use an extra hand. Not to mention that James told me if he found out I went to the crime scene he would hire someone to spy on me," she said with a giggle. Chara rolled her eyes. 

"What a creep, c'mon Frisky, let's start heading out, it'll be dark by the time we get there," she said, twirling into her dark green coat. Frisk smiled and followed after her best friend. She stopped as they walked out of the door, flicking a sorrowful glance at the blue armchair. She frowned. They've lost too much to this City.

 

* * *

 

 

It was dark, exactly as Chara had predicted, and the smoggy sky did very little to help. The little town home was in a nestled crook in the neighborhood, away from the commercial zones and the avenue. Unlike all the other houses, it had been painting a charming, cherry red. Frisk's heart ached even more when she thought more about it. 

"Mkay Frisky, how're we supposed to do this? Go through the window? Walk through the door?" Asked Chara as they walked up to the porch. Frisk pushed at the door, and it slid open. She glanced at Chara and pulled out her journal. She quickly jotted down that the lock had been broken, before the women looked around to make sure no one was watching them. Without a moment's hesitation, they slipped through the open door. 

"Shit, it's dark as all get out in here," said Chara. Frisk rolled her eyes, shushing her just in case they weren't alone. They looked around, their eyes beginning to adjust to the dim light. There was a fireplace poker in the center of the living room. Frisk picked it up, glancing down to see the hardwood was stained. In the light it was hard to tell what it was, but, from the smell wafting off of the boards, she could tell it was blood. 

Ice ran through her blood and she looked back at the fire poker. 

"I think this was used as like...a weapon," she whispered. Chara took it. 

"Well, it would be a pretty good one, but, wouldn't the police have taken it as evidence?" she wondered. Frisk frowned and stood up, scribbling down her thoughts despite the darkness. 

"Not when they were ordered not to do anything, so we should consider it," said Frisk, shrugging at the logic. It seemed perfectly reasonable to her. Chara grunted and put it back down. 

"Alright, let's check upstairs," whispered Frisk. Chara glanced up at her and frowned.

"I'll stay down here...I'd rather not see whatever happened up there...today was a wild ride. I'll keep watch," she murmured. Frisk nodded and jogged upstairs as Chara began to walk to the kitchen to carry out a separate search. As Frisk travelled up to the second floor, an eerie silence enveloped her and she began to feel a little scared. She checked the doors. Most of them were locked...except for one, which slid open almost as easily as the front door had. The same uneasiness swept over Frisk and she began to regret this decision. Still, she carried on. She had come this far and she was  **determined** to continue what she had started. 

As she closed the door behind her, a faint smell met Frisk's nostrils. She scrunched her nose and strained her eyes, seeing nothing but the outline of a bed and a few clothes on the ground, the street light outside spilling through the closed blinds, leaving a barred shadow on the floor. She glanced around, fumbling for the switch. 

When the light flashed on she regretted her move. She saw the carpet covered in dried blood, and the bed torn to shreds, down feather strewn across the floor. What had done this? 

"Oh God, what kinda bloodbath?" she choked, turning away to press her face to the door. _'Come on Frisky, don't wimp out now,'_ she encouraged herself. Taking a deep breath, Frisk turned back to the scene, and began to thank her lucky stars that they had already taken the bodies. She didn't know if she could handle seeing them. James had described the scene, how they had found their bodies strewn, even the children, who's souls looked like they were drained out of them. 

Frisk swallowed the bile in her throat and started forward. She began to search through the drawers, Maybe they would find documents related to a loan gone wrong, or maybe any letters that could tell her something about financial distress. That would answer a lot of questions. 

Frisk made her way into the closet, and as she opened the door a cloud of rotten smell hit her. She stumbled back and gagged. 

"Oh my God," she choked, covering her nose and mouth as she felt the contents in her stomach churned.  _'Guess that's where the smell was coming from...'_ thought Frisk. She covered her nose with her shirt, the smell wasn't extremely bad, but it was off putting. Frisk pushed past it and entered the small closet. Boxes were at her feet, and the clothes were strewn on the floor, much like the carnage of blood. There was however, one lone coat that hung on the rail. Compared to all the other dresses, and coats which were pretty standard, it actually looked expensive. A dark cranberry red and puffy fur. Frisk had the urge to take it for herself, but the smell came directly out of it. She choked and put it on the bed. 

"I think...Oh God," she murmured, patting the coat down. Her hands found a lump in one of the pockets and she froze, a chill going down her spine. Her brow furrowed and she reached her hand in, her fingers brushing against something soft and sort of leathery. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, pulling the object out from the pocket. Whatever it was, it couldn't be that bad. It couldn't be, the police would've taken it right? As she opened her eyes, a scream poured out of her, her legs going weak. She stumbled back, hitting the wall as she fell.   

The severed hand of Mrs. Conway, her ring finger chopped off, leaving nothing but a cruel black stump in its place. It was puffy, pale and stiff from rigor mortis. Veins and bone hung out of the wrist. Frisk skin crawled, like billions of spiders assaulted her, and her stomach began to churn. She gagged, eyes tearing up as she hurled over, vomiting. She had not been expecting that. She had been thinking a lot of things, but not that. Another wave of nausea hit her and she fell over again, choking out anything that would come, leaving her weak and breathless, her throat tight and nose burning. 

"God, why? Oh my God." she heard footsteps running up the stairs and started to panic, jumping up despite the shakiness in her legs and covered the hand to spare Chara of the same horror she had just witnessed. Chara threw open the door, baring the fire poker just in case Frisk had been attacked, a nest of papers in the crook of her elbow. Her eyes widened at the state of the room, and she found Frisk holding onto the ledge of the bed. 

"What happened, are you ok?" she asked, going over to her friend and checking her. Frisk shook her head, walking away from the bed. 

"No, they cut off her hand! Oh my God-"

The thought was interrupted when they heard the click of a door from downstairs. Frisk and Chara's eyes met and they paled. Frisk jumped over to the door and threw the light off, dragging Chara into the closet. They stood, packed like sardines as Frisk slid the door closed on them. Her heart thundered in her ears as she heard the movement of bodies. 

 **"Did you see a light go off?"** asked a gruff voice, muffled from the distance. Frisk swallowed a whimper, pressing her head against the closet door. Chara hung onto her, keeping her up. The smaller woman shook violently, her breath beginning to come out in short, panicked puffs. 

 _'They're gonna find us hear, and we're gonna die. I shouldn't have come here. I should've listened to James. Oh God, I'm so stupid!'_ she wanted to cry in frustration at her impulsiveness, but she stayed dead silent, her eyes wide as she searched for any shadows. 

 **"You sure you ain't hallucinating? I assure you no one's here, I can't smell nothin' but death,"** said a second voice, this one a pit higher than the last.  _'Smell? What an odd thing to say,'_ thought Frisk as they hid. The sound of men talking made her blood freeze. What if Porky's men were here? It could be very plausible, after all, this was their terf, and someone  _had_ committed a murder without their say so. Yet...it didn't sound like any of his gang members. Maybe they were hired, but she didn't know why would anyone would say they smelled something. Especially when all the rot was upstairs assaulting her nose. She swallowed her gags and let out a taut breath. 

 **"Mm, ok...still, I'm gonna check,"** replied the first man _._ Frisk gulped and looked at Chara, who put her finger to her lips, the small light from the window falling over her ghostly white face, the same barred shadow as earlier. Frisk prayed to whoever would listen to save them from detection, her breath shaking as she heard a large creak as the man began to climb the stairs. The door slid open with a small groan as the man entered the room. Frisk inwardly kicked herself when she realized she forgot to close the door. Chara clutched the iron poker, ready to strike at whoever was on the other side of the closet door. Light pooled the room with the flick of the switch. Frisk watched with terror and anticipation as a hulking figure moved towards the bed. She held her breath when he picked up the coat, and feeling around, growling when he grazed the hand. Without hesitation, he picked it up. 

 **"Oh god...you gotta be kiddin' me, they just left it here? Sloppy,"** he grumbled. Frisk felt her lip curl. Was this one of the murderers? Chara gripped her shoulder and squeezed the rod, her knuckles turning white from the pressure. The man turned, and it was then Frisk saw the outline of a wolfish silhouette.  _'He's...he's a monster?'_  she thought, her brow furrowing. What were monsters doing on this side of town? This was the Trentino family's district. He stared at the closet, and the two women froze. It was a pretty obvious hiding spot. 

The monster slowly advanced on the closet, and she could make out his fiery eyes, burning into the white wood.  _'Please don't find us. Go away,'_ she begged. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Chara bare the rod, her eyes darkening, she could barely even tell if she was breathing. The wolf narrowed its eyes, it's ears flicking.  _'God, don't move Chara,'_ Frisk pleaded silently as they stared back through the door. She could hear him begin to growl, the low rumble in his throat that covered her in chills. 

 **"Doug, come _on._ There's nothin there you blind son of a bitch," **grumbled the other man who had just entered the room.  _"Doug"_ turned, and a sigh of relief escaped Frisk's nose.  _'Thank God,'_ she thought. The wolf went to his friend and they turned the lights off. 

 **"He left her hand here, I swear that mutt ain't got no class,"** uttered Doug, as they went down the stairs. Frisk looked at Chara, whose eyes were closed, a single tear trailing down her cheek. Frisk slowly opened the closet door and padded out, making sure to be as quiet as possible as they fumbled in the dark. 

"I was about ready to stab him," whispered Chara. Frisk rolled her eyes and sighed. They needed to escape. She glanced at the window and an idea twinkled to life. She heard the rustle of paper, Chara folding up the paper and stuffing it in her coat pocket. They nodded to each other, and Frisk briskly walked to the window, opening it with a sharp crack of wood on wood. 

 **"Shit, I told you someone was here!"** growled Doug, and the two men raced up the stairs. Frisk cursed and pushed Chara out of the window. The woman threw her legs over, sliding down to the ledge. Frisk raced over to the door and locked it, which would buy her enough time to escape. Just as she twisted the lock, the monster banged against it, growling. She felt her heart race with fear and adrenaline as the wood splintered immediately. She stumbled to the window, Chara ushering her on. She slid over, about to jump down to the ledge with Chara, when her arm caught. She glanced over seeing the fabric of her coat stuck on a nail. She jerked at it, the door beginning to give way to the pounding. She stifled a scream as the hand of the monster ripped through the wood, a huge crack filling the air. She gave her coat another harsh jerk, before whimpering, sliding her arms out from the coat and falling to the ledge with a thud. 

the door busted open and the two monsters came to the window, snarling. The women jumped off the ledge in a rush of panic. Frisk's knees jolted with pain as she hit the ground, and her hands broke her fall before she collapsed. Chara grabbed her by the shoulders, and the two women fled the house, running down the road. A howl sounded off, and Frisk went cold, her mind racing. Monsters. Those were monsters. She remembered the hand, and began to imagine it as her own. Frisk let out a choked sob. What had she gotten herself into? 

 

* * *

 

 

_\--April 19th, 1925_

_We investigated the Conway residence. We found ~_

_1.) Lock busted. Murderer entered the house through the front door._

_2.) Someone was killed in the living room, possibly with the iron poker, but we're unsure._

_3.) The bedroom was trashed. Signs of struggle. A hand was found in the one expensive coat, ring fingered cut off. I suspect the wedding ring was stolen...it's sick._

_4.) Chara found documents in the kitchen, stashed in a drawer behind a safe, but they're coded. I feel like they contain the answer to this._

_5.) Suspects came back to the crime scene. They were monsters. Doug. I'll look into the name._

_-F. Sawyer --_

 

* * *

 


	2. Nothing But A Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God you're back. Awesome. I know it's a bit off putting when something only has around like 2 chapters, but it'll grow, I just started it like yesterday. It'll get there. Thanks for reading!

 

~[Thrilling Days of Yesteryear](https://youtu.be/CpaOh4poNms)~

 

 

Frisk sat hunched over at her desk, looking over the documents that Chara had found. She couldn't understand a single thing, no matter how hard she tried. It was just a bunch of numbers and weird dash marks. It was as if it were a mixture between a number code, morse and braille. Then, to make things even more confusing, dashes of primary colors ended every sentence. Every single paper had been written this way, and they hadn't been in envelops when Chara found them, so Frisk suspected that the Conways had trashed them. The envelops would've helped tremendously. They could've found out the date they were sent, or who sent them. However, luck didn't seem to shine on Frisk. They hadn't even been able to give a thorough investigation to the house, and truthfully, Frisk hadn't found anything really worth much, besides a severed hand. 

She clenched her jaw at the memory, trying not to let it get to her. Frisk returned to her notes. The only thing they had was a name. Not even a last name, but it was a start. Doug. It played over and over in her mind. A monster named Doug.  _'Well that narrowed it down,'_ she rolled her eyes. Doug was a very popular name. She dug her knuckle into her forehead to trigger any thoughts. A wolf monster named Doug. 

 _ **'Doug, come**_ **on _! There's nothing here you blind son of a bitch,'_** The memory hit her like a speeding ball to the face. A blind wolf monster named Doug.  _'Hey that's not bad,'_ she thought, a small smile coming to her face. 

"If I were a blind canine monster, where would I go?" she murmured, running a hand through her hair. She was sure that the documents in her hand would give her all the answers to this, but Doug might know how to crack it, or someone who could, considering he was apparently blind.  _'What if it was just a figure of speech?'_ wondered Frisk. That could be true, but then a again, he had been so close to the door. Any regular person would've clearly been able to at least see  _something_ past those shuttered doors. She had to assume that he was blind, if only to make this search easier. 

"Hm? What did you say?" asked Chara as she sat in the blue armchair, writing furiously in her song book. Frisk looked up and put her feet up on the desk. She pursed her lips and tapped the bottom of the pen against her lips. 

"Where would a blind canine monster go? To...uh, hang out?" asked Frisk. Chara glanced down at her book, and finished a sentence, silence stretching between them. A thud hit the bed, and Chara stood up, going to the drawer that the radio stood on. She opened it and searched the books and journals, pulling out a binder filled with her gigs and speakeasies that she had worked at. She plopped it down on Frisk's desk and sat at the edge, crossing her legs. 

"We could start with some of my gigs. Tonight I sing at Adam's," she said. Frisk and her shared a look, a big, fond smile growing on Frisk's lips. 

"Neutral territory," they both murmured in unison. Chara grinned and picked up her book. 

"In short, you're bound to find  _someone_ who knows a blind wolf monster named Doug," she said with a wink. Frisk smiled and grabbed her pen and some makeup from Chara's stand. She began to copy down a sentence that contained at least every element in the code, marking the end with a yellow blotch in her journal. She then stashed away the documents in her drawer, and covered them with a layer of folded clothes. 

"Ok then we should probably get ready!" she rambled, going to their small bedroom, their two cots for beds up against the wall, opposite of one another. 

"Yeah! Adam asked about you by the way," said Chara. Frisk chuckled, a small blush dusting her cheeks as she went through her dresses.

"Oh? Well, I'll give him a visit," she said with a small smile, digging through her closet to find something worthy of wearing to the charming speakeasy. She furrowed her brow, she didn't really own any nice dresses, and...her favorite coat had been left at the house. She had completely forgot about in the rush and then the stress of the documents. How could she be so dumb? Hopefully they wouldn't use it to find her, if they thought she was worth finding. She glanced behind her, towards her desk, and thought about the documents. What if they had been coming for them? Her brow furrowed and she glanced around nervously, mind racing with the possibilities.  _'You're overreacting Frisky,'_ she told herself, as she got changed. What if she wasn't though? Without another hesitation she rushed to her drawers and pulled out the documents, shoving them in her purse. She couldn't take any chances. 

 

* * *

 

Adam's was known for being neutral Territory, and was actually called The Eden. No gangs had a claim on it, but mostly used it as a space to make deals without the threat of violence if they so happened to use it. It was owned by two men, one a monster that no one really knew the name of at all, or what he looked like. The other was frequently at the establishment, making sure everyone was happy. Everyone knew him, and he knew everyone. He was Adam, a charming middle aged man who loved music and expensive cigars, which he often showed off. Despite his successful business, he rarely wore flashy suits or expensive chains or rings, like most men with wealth. 

That's what Frisk liked about Adam, even had a small crush on the man. Everytime Chara had a gig there, she always loved to go, not only to listen to her friend, but also to talk to him. He was an excellent conversationalist, and always had a topic on mind. He usually bought her glasses of water or fizzy juice, knowing she didn't drink. It always surprised her knowing that a man like him, so understanding, smart and charming had stayed alive this long. He must've been a good negotiator, and he had made it clear on many accounts that he welcomed monsters and minorities into his bar, but not violence. That usually earned a nod of respect from the monsters, who were, on most occasions, exiled from many establishments in the city, and the country on a larger scale. 

The Eden was located near the harbor, edged right up close to the water haphazardly. Nothing but ship docks surrounded it, and a fishing warehouse across the street. A couple of stray dogs gnawed at bones around the cargo boxes, the ever dark, smogged sky giving way to a glimpse of sun. Frisk smiled and smoothed out her washed out lavender dress, the small floral design barely visible, but there. She sighed, this was the nicest thing she could find that wasn't dirty. She really needed to do laundry. 

She snuck a glance at Chara, wrapped in her forest green coat that went down to her knees and hid the sultry flapper dress she had on underneath for the show. Chara always complained that the Eden didn't have a proper changing room. Frisk always told her it would've been fine, but Chara was paranoid something would always happen. Frisk glanced at the faint scar on her friend's face and sighed. She never asked how she got it, Chara preferred not to talk about her past at all. It still remained a mystery even after four years of friendship, and she had picked up vague clues, but never a true answer. 

The day disappeared as they entered the bar, a shadow filling the darkened room. Frisk squinted at the sudden change in light. They had come a bit earlier so Chara could practice with the band, and Frisk could talk to Adam before it got busy. Adam knew everyone, so he must've been able to help. It would be convenient, if he at least knew someone who remotely heard of Doug the blind wolf monster, and it would be amazing if he actually knew Doug the blind wolf monster personally, but she doubted that. The city was too big. 

"I'm gonna go practice my set. Are you sure you'll be ok?" asked Chara, turning to Frisk and interrupting her thoughts. Frisk smiled and nodded, hugging her purse close to her chest. 

"Ms. Moore, oh good, you're here right on time!" the women turned as Adam entered the room, Frisk's heart skipping a beat, her soul swooning. He had a big smile on his face, and his curly black hair fell over his grey eyes, that even in the dark room, seemed to sparkle. He gave the two ladies a goofy bow and reached for their hands. Frisk blushed when he kissed her hand. 

"A pleasure to see you Ms. Sawyer, I've missed you at my bar," he murmured. Frisk smiled and waved him off shyly. 

"It's uh...erm...it's just, it's just Frisk," she stammered. Chara rolled her eyes playfully, before going off to meet with the band. Frisk watched her go, and sighed, following behind Adam. He lead her into a hallway and then to a smoking room. The natural light hit her eyes and she squinted again as he began to show her a new window they had installed. 

"It's a rose window, y'know like the one on the Notre Dame Cathedral, we bought it from the Saint Michael's cathedral, they were installing a better one and wanted to get rid of this one," he said. Frisk smiled and glanced out, seeing the misty black ocean roil below them. She glanced up at him, his grey eyes matching the cold, cloudy sky. Her hands fumbled for her journal, realizing she couldn't just stand there and stare at him. He glanced down at her as she pulled the black leather bound journal, the small red heart embroidered on it. 

"I need to ask you something Adam, I had a run in with a monster, I was at a crime scene and they came in. Chara and I hid in the closet," she rambled, leafing through the pages in her journal to get to her findings. He crossed his arms, raising a brow calculatively. 

"Oh? Are you ok?" he asked. Frisk nodded, holding up the page with the information she found. 

"There was a monster, a wolf monster to be more exact, his name was Doug, and he was blind apparently," she explained, dragging a lock of hair behind her ears and out of her face as she explained. Adam took the journal and began to read, flipping through the pages, mouthing the name silently to himself as he tried to jog his memory. She watched intently, biting her lip and playing with the hem of her dress anxiously as she waited. 

"I don't know him," he admitted. Frisk's spirit's sunk along with her smile, she could feel the disappointment pool at her stomach and her head buzzed with frustration. She sighed heavily and ran a hand through her hair. He furrowed his brow, not meaning to have made her upset, but grinned. 

"But! Hold on, I wasn't done yet,  If he's a lycan there's a likely chance that other Lycan's will know him. I happen to have a frequent canine visitor, his name is Faolan, he delivers ice to the kitchen, so in return I usually get him a free drink on the house," he said. Frisk lit up like a christmas tree immediately. She knew Adam could help her! 

"Oh thank you! Oh my God, thank you, you have no idea how much this means to me," she rambled, making a move to hug him before stepping back and staring at the ground. Adam chuckled and poked her nose. 

"Anything for my favorite customer," he chirped, leading her back into the main bar and handing back her journal. She stashed it away in her jacket. Adam turned back to her and frowned slightly. 

"Although, if you don't mind, may I ask what you were doing at the crime scene in the first place?" he asked. Frisk furrowed her brow, wondering if she should answer or not.  _'Well you've already asked for his help, you might as well give him all the pieces to the puzzle,'_ she thought reasonably. When she began explaining herself, Adam grew a bit more concerned, and when she looked up to see his disapproving eyes, she felt her insides squirm. 

"Oh...that's a dangerous game you're playing there Frisky...be careful," he warned. She felt a flutter in her stomach at his words of caution, and couldn't help but smile at the fact he was concerned for her well-being. 

"Don't worry, I'm being careful," she said. Adam nodded and pat her shoulder. She watched as he left to order a few waitresses to get tables ready. She inwardly squealed and quickly left to talk to Chara about her finds. Faolan. She got one step closer every day. She looked down at her journal and grinned. She was going to give the Conways justice. She wouldn't let them down, and this new lead filled her soul with  **determination.**

 

* * *

 

 It wasn't long before customers started trickling in, Frisk having left the smoking room once cigars and cigarettes were lit. 

She sat awkwardly at a booth, looking around as people crammed themselves into the space. The Eden was relatively small for such a popular speakeasy. Comfortable green booths lined the walls, and the floor was open to dancers, which were packed like sardines as they swayed to the lively jazz music.

"Frisk, I want you to meet Faolan, Faolan, my good friend, Ms. Sawyer has been waitin' up on you," said Adam, Frisk jumping a bit when she heard his voice. She turned, smiling and held out her hand, before glancing up. Her eyes widened when she saw the huge canine monster. His shoulders were mountains, and his muscles, even when covered in thick, dark grey fur, were defined. His white tank top was stained and his hands were huge, cupping over hers until her entire hand was enveloped in his paw. 

"Nice t'meet ya' misses, sorry t'keep ya waitin', whatcha need?" Asked Faolan, his voice adding on to his gruffness. She smiled and made room for him to sit beside her. 

"I needed to ask you a few questions, see, I've been trying to find a wolf monster named Doug, he's blind," she said. Adam winked at her and turned into the crowd of bodies. Frisk watched him go, before glancing back at Faolan. She paled. His ears were pressed forward, and his hackles raised. His large, golden eyes stared at her with the intensity of the sun and she felt herself shrink. 

"Doug? ...Why you wanna know 'bout that crowd misses? They ain't no good folks now, hope y'not involved in that mess, little lady," he growled. She shrunk back a bit more and looked away, opening up her journal in a fumble of nerves. 

"W-well, you see Mr. Faolan, he's involved in the Conway family murder, and I need to know what he's part of to continue my investigation," she explained, running a nervous hand through her hair, a cold sweat breaking on her brow at the intensity of his stare. 

"I ain't seen no lady detectives runnin' around as o'late...Doug. He's blind as a bat—write this down," he said, flicking her notebook. She nodded and pulled out her pen, quickly flipping to a blank page and scribbled the name Doug at the top. 

"I know Doug, and I wish I didn't, y'hear? He's part o'the wolf pack. They's a group unda' the Capo Leviathan. All's I know is they a mean crowd. I ain't su'prised that Doug is involved wit' a murder. I wouldn't be able to tell ya' their HQ or nothin's and if I could, I wouldn't. Now listen. Doug may be blind as balls, but he can see movement y'hear? He lost his sense o'smell due to a unfortunate addiction ta' cigars. They mess up a dog's nose real bad. We thinks he was born blind though. Ms. Sawyer, I don't run with that crowd no more, but don't write down I told ya this ight? Suppose they find out..." His voice trailed off, and Frisk glanced up from her furious scribbling. Her eyes widened and she nodded in understanding. 

"Don't worry...you'll be completely anynomous...thank you so much. I really appreciate all your help," she said, smiling softly. Faolan smiled back, scratching the back of his neck. 

"Aw geez misses, it ain't nothin', just don't get y'self hurt, I couldn't live wit' myself knowin' I sent a sweet girl like you to the slaughta'house," he said with a frown. Frisk chuckled and shrugged. 

"Well, I live in Ebbot City, I think I can handle myself, again thank you, it's so appreciated, and I wish you a good night," she saif, shaking his hand .Faolan grinned and stood up. 

"My pleasure miss," he said, bowing his head to her before wading through the crowd like an island in the sea. She smiled and began to write in her journal, making more notes based on what Faolan had told her.  _'Capo Leviathan? That's a new one, I'll have to look into that,'_ she thought. The lights flashed, and the band quieted down, getting ready for the next piece. Frisk hunched up in the booth and studied the chicken scratch of symbols. What did these mean!? Whatever, it didn't matter right now. She glanced at her purse, dread pooling at her stomach. What if she was caught on the street and they found the documents on her?  _'They would kill me,'_ she thought, running a hand through her hair with the stress.  _'No Frisk, don't think like that, you've been in worse situations, you'll make it.You'll figure this out, you always figure things out, this will work. You just gotta be careful,'_ she reminded herself and she smiled. 

"And now, Ladies and gentlemen, introducing to the stage, Ms. Medusa Moore," announced Adam. Frisk clapped as the saxophones blared a siren's song, the audience cheering. Chara walked on stage, the men calling after her. She waved them off, nothing but confidence written on her body and face. Frisk smiled at the sight, she wished she had the confidence to get on stage, but she was a writer through and through.

Chara loved music, she loved poetry. She didn't let the city tear that love apart, even when lewd comments were shouted at her. She just winked and waved them off like they didn't matter. Cause in her mind, they didn't. All that mattered was the way the jazz played through her blood, and the words she poured from her soul. Angry words that cursed the world, sad words that made the audience spiral into self pity and whiskey, and happy words that reminded everyone the sun came out tomorrow. EVerything was upbeat, except for one song. Every set she played she had one slow song. It was never of love, but it encouraged everyone in this hustle and bustle of the city to slow down for just a moment. It worked too. People loved her music, Medusa Moore had become a name around the speakeasies. She tried to keep work in her neighborhood, but when she offered a nicer place, she took it immediately. Especially Adam's. Neutral territory meant she didn't have to dodge bullets, or sing through bar fights. Everyone knew what happened to people when they fought in Adam's bar. They were made to smile, and weren't allowed anywhere but hell. A shudder ran down Frisk's back when she was reminded of the cost of peace. 

Thankfully, it had only happened once from the stories she had heard. After Chara gave a small speech and played with the crowd up front, upbeat trumpets began to play. Frisk smiled in anticipation, her foot tapping along to the beat of the drums. 

 _ **'We have arrived, a brand new time, where the lights all shine, ain't a worry in my mind,'**  _sang Chara, her voice light and frothy. In the undertones of those pretty little pitches, was the bubbling of something sultry and enraged. Her hips bounced, the tassels lining her dress shaking bouyauntly. Frisk smiled and went back to her journal, doodling Chara in the margins as she tended to do when she watched her friend. 

"Care to dance, Frisky?" Frisk looked up and smiled when she saw Adam extend his hand to her. She glanced back at her purse, and felt the same dread pool in her.  _'It'll be fine,'_ she told herself. She didn't know about that. Adam took her hand and pulled her to the dance floor. 

"So what did Faolan tell you? Was he any help?" he asked, his face growing a bit more serious despite the friendly demeanor. She frowned slightly, glancing back at her purse again. 

"He said that Doug was part of the wolf pack, and that they worked for someone called Capo Leviathan," she explained. Adam's eyes widened and he froze, a man bumping into him and apologizing profusely, but Adam paid no mind, his focus was on Frisk. She didn't know if she her heart was swooning over his attention, or thundering under his frown. She admitted that she hated seeing him frown.  

"Leviathan?... Don't continue this investigation Frisk. It's not worth it," he said sharply. Frisk furrowed her brow and stopped dancing as well. 

**_'A brand new time, where girls can smoke, and cars roar down golden roads. Yet there's evil in the air tonight, when I look at you.'_ **

"What do you mean I shouldn't go on with this? This is important to me, Adam," she barked. Adam frowned and glanced around. He clenched his jaw and grabbed her shoulder, wagging his finger like a parent disciplining his child.  

"You're stickin' your nose in places it doesn't belong, Frisky. You're gonna get hurt, ya want to end up like the Conways?" he threatened. She furrowed her brow, her throat tightening at the reminder. It was a bit insulting really. She knew this was dangerous, and he wasn't the first to tell her. She grit her teeth at the reminder of James and his concern for her as well. This wasn't just something she could forget about. This family deserved justice...and it was about time that someone in this city got closure for the crimes committed against them. It seemed like the police were on the criminal's side, all because people liked to drink. The poor man's desire to drink lead to the rich man's desire for power and wealth. It was disgusting, and she wanted to unearth it. Besides, why would monsters kill an innocent family that wasn't even in their terf? There had to be something more. 

"Because Adam, there's...something going on, and I won't stand by and do nothing," she said. That's why she became a journalist, it was her job to stick her nose where it didn't belong. Adam groaned at her persistence. 

"You can be a real stubborn ass you know," he grunted. Frisk laughed wryly, and furrowed her brow, letting the comment hang in the air between them.  _'It's not a good quality for a lady to have,'_ the thought was bitter, biting with sarcasm, which made her roll her eyes. 

"I wish other people were stubborn to help people," she murmured, almost accusingly. Adam rose a brow at the off hand comment. 

_' **Some folk, they live off ignorance, I wish I were like them. They think you're full of niceties, but even Satan knew how to grin,'**_

Frisk shrunk under his stare, immediately wanting to apologize. Adam sighed mournfully and pulled out a cigar, lighting it with a flick of a match. He was stressed out. 

"Help me Adam," she pleaded. She needed someone like him on her side. He eyed her and sighed. 

"I've done enough damage. Enjoy the Eden, I can't give you anymore information. I will not be the reason you're dead in a ditch," he said blowing a puff of smoke out and worming his way out of the crowd. She felt her heart sink, murmuring apologies as her stiff body was bumped into by drunk dancers. A sick and disgusting anger covered her skin and her fists clenched. She shoved her way through the rowdy crowd and went back to her seat. 

"I'm not stupid, I know what i'm doing, these fucking..." she murmured crossly, her fingers fumbling through her purse to make sure no one stole anything. A sigh of relief escaped her when she found everything exactly as she left it.  _'Thank God,'_ she thought, sitting down with a huff. She took out her journal and began to read through the notes. Her skin crawled with anger as she played Adam's words over and over until she shoved the journal in her purse. The dance floor began to clear as the song ended. She jumped up and made her way to the stage. She needed to talk to Chara. She was the only one who seemed to encourage her. She needed to make sure she wasn't doing this in vain. Of course...she was busy. It would be unfair and selfish of her to ask for solace at that moment. She sighed a bit in annoyance.

She walked across the floor over to the stage tell Chara she was thinking about heading home to start dinner or something. Truthfully she just wanted to leave now. She couldn't stand anything about this place suddenly. She felt a sick crawl up her skin when she thought of Adam, her head buzzing with anger. She slowed when the hairs on the back of her neck rose. She felt a strange sense that someone was watching her, but shrugged it off. It was probably just her paranoia. She gulped and continued to the stage. 

"Hey," she whispered. Chara waved her over to the stairs, and the two met there. 

"What's on your mind?" she asked. Frisk sighed and ran a hand through her hair. There was a lot on her mind. She was starting to doubt this whole thing. What if Adam and James were right? She just needed to go home and sleep.  _'Sleep, my old friend, it's been awhile,'_ she thought. 

"I think I need to go home, I found someone who knew Doug, so...I'm gonna call it a night, I'll have dinner waiting for you for when you get back," she murmured. Chara frowned slightly and glanced around, crossing her arms. 

"Ok then, uh, don't worry about dinner," she said with a small, teasing chuckle. Frisk bit her cheek at the joke, trying not to laugh at it. They both knew Frisk wasn't the best cook. Neither was Chara however, so they usually didn't eat meals other than sandwiches and cheese plates. Frisk left Chara's side as another song started and the dance floor was crowded once more, now with recipients even more sloppy and drunk than before.She shuddered and slipped out of the club, avoided Adam as he swept right on past her. She bit backa goodbye and rushed into the darkness. She looked up and her eyes widened.  _'How long were we there? Surely not that long. What time is it?'_ she thought as she hurried down the docks and to the street. There was a long stretch of darkness that enveloped her and she felt a chill run up her spine. 

That same feeling from earlier began to come over her, and she heard double footfalls echo against the alley. The hairs of her neck stood and her feet began to slow involuntarily. She whimpered, looking down to see her chest was glowing a faint blue. She found suddenly that she couldn't move and the footfalls belonged to someone else. Her heart thundered wildly as a chill ran through her blood quite literally. It was like she was being filled with ice water, and she began to shiver. 

Her eyes widened with terror as dry, cold fingers brushed against the exposed skin of her arm, a million thoughts racing in her mind, none of them comforting. Her throat tightened and her breath grew shaky, tears welling in her eyes.  _'Get out of here Frisky! Fight! Run!'_ she screamed at herself, but she couldn't  _move_. 

 **"Don't you know how to greet a new pal?"** growled a dark, terrifying voice. She clenched her jaw, but couldn't stifle her sobs, her ribs racking with shaking, silent cries.  _'Please don't hurt me, please, God, don't hurt me,'_ she begged, but the words couldn't form on her tongue. 

 **"Turn around, sweetheart, shake my hand,"** he whispered, almost condescendingly. She swallowed her fear, feeling the ice leave her blood. She looked over her shoulder, hair falling over her eyes, which met the pale, and skeletal hands, which were decorated with ruby rings. She clenched her jaw and looked up, paling at the sight. And she thought Faolan was frightening. She was staring into the eye sockets of death himself, a large grin on his face. His hungry smile was filled with fangs, one sparkling gold fang winking threateningly at her.  _'This is it, this is how I die, I should've waited for Chara!'_ she thought frantically, glancing back down at his hand, she caught that his other arm was hiding suspiciously behind his back and her heart jumped in fear. The fears she had before were tossed away and new ones spiked in her mind, a frenzy of chaotic noise and terror. 

He stared intently at her, his red eye lights brightening a bit as his brow rose. Frisk clenched her jaw, and shook his hand, stifling a whimper as his hand closed tightly around hers. 

His grin grew wider and he tilted his head to study her face. Her big brown eyes wide with terror, and her lips quivering. 

"You ok sweetheart? You look like you've seen a ghost," he said with a cruel chuckle. Frisk tried to respond, tried to snap at him, but the words caught on her tongue and she stammered. How could she talk back to something like him? He was enormous, and, when she glanced at his suit, she realized he was also rich. Golden chains hung at his pockets, suit jacket as black as the night and underneath was a bright red waist coat, which she could see from the glow emanating from his eyes. He wasn't someone you could just tell at. She was vaguely reminded of Porky and her stomach rolled, her lip curling with disgust. 

"I'm fine," she growled, her voice cracking. She sounded like she was about to cry, and she really was. She glanced to his hidden arm and furrowed her brow. She squeezed her eyes shut, the skeleton having not let go of her hand yet. 

"What do you need, sir? If...if you're gonna kill me just do it now," She whispered hoarsely. She could almost feel his grin grow at the sight of her terrorized state and a loud laugh bubbled up from the pits of his ribs. She opened her eyes and looked up, seeing the skeleton practically in tears at what she had said, which deeply upset her. 

"What!? Oh God no, no! I ain't gonna kill ya! I was just messin around kid," he laughed, wiping his eyes, letting go of her as laughs racked his ribs. She frowned and let a sigh of relief escape her.  _'Just messing around? What kind of sick bastard?'_ she thought bitterly. She believed he was going to kill her, and she was offended that he thought her utter terror was somehow hilarious. 

"Nah...ya just left your bag behind s'all," he explained, and his hidden arm unfolded from behind him. Her eyes widened in panic. How had she been so careless!? She stared at the sight of the skeleton and her little purse in his hand, which, when he carried it, looked like a toy .

"Oh...oh! Oh my God! Th-thank you," she sputtered, tears beginning to fall freely down her face at the shock of what she had just dealt with. His laughter calmed down and he grinned again. 

"No problem sweetheart... name's Sans, Sans the skeleton," he said with a wink as he plopped it down into her shaking hands. She hugged it close to herself and began to sob. He only smiled, leaning in a bit more and putting a finger under her chin. 

"Th-thank...thank you, S...Sans...it's been a long week," she whimpered. He smirked and looked over her body and clothes. With a swipe of his phalanges he wiped the salty tears away from her eyes. She felt a bit taken aback by his touches, her shoulders hunching up. 

"I bet... what's your name eh sweetheart?" He asked, shoving his hands in his pocket and narrowing his eyes, a small purr emanating from him at the sight of her state. She furrowed her brow. She didn't know if she should tell him...but he had given back her purse, even if it were through a strange and cruel way that now had her absolutely broken before his eyes. 

"F-Frisk, my name is Frisk, sir, just...thank you, I would've lost some very important things," she whimpered, brushing her tears away and sniffling. He grinned, watching as she began to turn and walk. 

"Frisk...rolls right of the tongue...say...Frisk, what's a pretty thing like you doin' walkin' alone?" He asked, beginning to walk with her. She clenched her jaw at the question, side eyeing him. 

"I do it a lot...it's not so bad...besides, I don't live very far...if not a few blocks," she murmured, furrowing her brow as the lie slid right through her teeth. While she was grateful for him, she also didn't trust the monster as far as she could spit. After all, who gets a kick out of watching people completely paralyzed by fear? Sans rose an apprehensive brow and he smirked.

"Is that so sweetheart? ...y'know, I have an uncanny ability to sense when people are lying to me...normally I don't let them get away with it, but since you're such a cute little thing, I'll let it slide. Hopefully I see you again...Frisk," he uttered, taking her shaking hand up in hers and giving it a small kiss, before he turned away. 

A shaking breath left her, chills running up her spine at his words. She turned to face him, but he was gone. She clenched her fists around her purse, closing her eyes and sending a small prayer of thanks.  _'I hope we never see each other again,'_ she thought bitterly, wiping her eyes again and setting a look of stone on her face for the rest of her walk. 

 

 

* * *

 

It was about eleven o'clock at night by the time Frisk made it back to her apartment, having taken the subway. She lumbered up the flight of stairs and down the hall, running a tired hand through her hair. She was both physically and mentally exhausted. She pulled out her keys and glanced at the door, her brow furrowed when she saw a huge rift in the wood, a hole looking straight into their apartment staring her straight in the eyes. 

The tears she had been fighting all night came flooding back as dread flooded her stomach. 

"No...what the hell?" She whimpered, pushing her door open. This couldn't be happened. Her eyes welled up as she saw her apartment. Completely trashed, every thing thrown haphazardly to the floor, drawers open for the world to see. Pillow cushions thrown from their place.

She felt a panicked bile rise her throat and she shouted in frustration, racing into her room. It was just as bad, if not worse. Her matress had been flung to the wall. 

"Oh my God! No, no! Oh my God." She panicked, her head buzzing with fear. Everything was falling apart! Everything except, she glanced at her purse. She had been smart. A small sigh of relief left her lips despite the chaos surrounding her. At least...at least she had the documents, the key to her puzzle. They could tear her apartment apart, but she still had what they didn't. She was smart...

 _'They couldn't find what they wanted Frisky...you know what that means, right? They're gonna be after you now, don't get so cocky,'_ the scold hit her hard, and she crumbled, hitting her head softly against the wall as a strangled sob escaped her. She was desperate, and now she just wanted to give up. 

_'You can't give up Frisky, despite this setback, it means something. You're getting somewhere, and when you get somewhere in something you ain't supposed to know, things get dangerous. You knew this going into it...stay **determined**.'_

 

* * *

 

_\--_

_-:. 1915211219 235185 3151212532034 20154125 1318/ 41855132118, 9 1851121225 815165 251521`185 71514141 815124 25152118 5141 156 2085 45112 1144 7520 135 2082420 --------*11, 9 31521124 1851121226 21195 620_

_(Yellow)_

_\--_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh that was intense!!! 
> 
> And yes those weird numbers are in fact the coded sentence Frisk writes down, so if you want to give it a shot, go on ahead! 
> 
> Thanks for reading today!!


	3. Ghost Lake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! You made it! Thank God, Oh my, I would've written this chapter a LOT sooner, but when I was about to publish it the first time, my log in timed out! So I've been trying to rewrite it! This is the third time, and it's finally done! It better be perfect, this ONE chapter better surmount Lord of the Rings with as many times I've rewritten it. I hope you enjoy!

 

 

~[Cold As Ice from Russia](https://youtu.be/55q5EuklA_s)~

 

 

 

Frisk. What a perfect name. What an absolutely wonderful name. Frisk. 

As the skeleton meandered down the cobblestone street, his grin was bright at the memory he played over and over in his head. He came to the large grey brick town home, the frozen courtyard in front. Without much effort, and a flash of red light he was inside the tall rod iron fence. The big white German Shepherd barked, jumping up from it's little doghouse in the corner of the court yard. He quickly shushed it, the shadows dancing on his face from the street light a few feet away. 

"Hey Toby," whispered Sans, summoning a bone from thin air and tossing it to the dog to shut it up. Toby caught it in a frenzy of clanking chains and Sans regretted his decision. However, he was now a content dog, returning to the confines of his doghouse and accepting his bribary. Sans chuckled. Dumb mutt. 

He dug his keys out from the pockets of his suit jacket, fumbling for the right one in the dark. He didn't want to teleport inside, knowing the little flash of light it created would probably wake up Wings, or Papyrus which was the last thing he needed right now. It was bad enough he had shirked his job for the day, he didn't need to wake anyone up. He checked his watch, squinting his eyes in the ever dark night of the Underground. There were a few downsides to living inside of the mountain, one, the sun never really reached you. The small glow form his eyelights were enough to tell him the time.  _'3:30...damn...'_ he thought as he slid the key inside, giving a hesitant twist to keep from making too much noise. He almost laughed wryly as he tried to squeeze his large body into the crack of the door, his wide shadow falling on the hardwood floors of his living room. 

He turned to close the door with a soft click, smiling in triumph at the noiseless entrance. He was getting better at sneaking around. The house was dark, if not for the small purple embers in the large fireplace. He let out a sigh and leaned against the door, loosening his tie, his mind returning to the little woman, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. 

He couldn't help but admit he had a thing for humans. He liked small things, and their smooth skin, which differed from his hard, dry bones. He smiled at the memory of the way her cute messy hair fell over those big eyes when she looked at him, a shiver running up his spine. Those big, brown eyes that captured the stars, and glimmered with tears. Oh she was a doll. 

"So you finally found your way home huh? And where the  _fuck_ have you been?" Sans felt his soul freeze with icy fear as he heard the cold voice of his father, his mind immediately going numb from any reminiscent thoughts he had been having. His eye sockets widened and his body froze stock still. Well shit...

"I uh...was goin' on a walk..." He whispered hoarsely. He saw a shadow stand up in the dark, before the blinding light of a small lamp attacked his eyes. He squinted in the soft, yellow light, having not expected it. Wings swiftly marched to him, his eyes narrowed, the two cracks running along the opposite hemispheres of his face glaring at him with a threatening reminder of just exactly who his father was. Sans shrunk under the intensity of those two empty sockets, two black holes that sucked all the light and joy from the room. Sans caved under that glare, his grin faltering, a cold sweat running down his forehead. 

"A walk? All day? Ah yes, I love it when I go on day-long walks to avoid my duties..." He growled. Sans felt his shoulders hunching up, his fists balled and sweaty from icy terror. 

"I uhh..." He murmured, but Wings only bared his fangs, causing Sans to wince. 

"Spare your excuses Sans. You knew you were supposed to help Papyrus with the rent collections," he snapped. Sans gulped and scratched the back of his neck, trying not to look up to the old skeleton, who towered over him. 

"Aw gee, was that t-today?" He asked, mentally kicking himself at his unintentional stutter. He became such a pathetic mess around his pops, it was like he changed into a completely new person, and he hated it. He hated rent day too. It was boring, and all he did was drive Papyrus around since Wings never trusted him to collect the fees. It's not like he was actually needed during rent day. Everyone knew he was the muscle of the operation, not exactly the diplomat, and everyone always paid up. Hell, why wouldn't they? It was just rent money, Wings made sure he took care of his residents after all, a big fuck you to the Dreemurs. 

"Don't act innocent," growled Wings, "You knew we had work today and you shirked it. Papyrus, now he never skips a days work! Unlike you, Papyrus knows his place in this family, he knows what needs to be done. Why can't you be more like Papyrus?" Exclaimed Wings. Sans frowned slightly, his grin turning intoimore of a grimace at the mention of his practically perfect younger brother. What a brown noser. Sans almost rolled his eyes.  _'of course Papyrus is perfect, Papyrus never screws up. It's always my fault,'_ he thought bitterly, but he dared not let the words slip out of his mouth. 

Wings turned away and Sans narrowed his eyes his father went over to a cage, blanket drooped over it. He bowed at the waist and studied the sheet for a moment. 

"Well while you were out  _walking,_ a little Birdy told me about a gun trade going on at Ghost lake. This afternoon no less," he mused, pacing back over to his son, who had tried to inch away to the upstairs. Wings stopped him with one cold look. 

"How swell..." He said with a sheepish grin. Wings nodded. 

"Yes...Sans, if you're ever out  _walkin'_ like you were today, you'll find yourself walking the streets a lot more, y'hear? Now get out of my sight." His voice grew darker as he let his threat hang in the silence between them. Sans felt an icy chill fall down his spine and he nodded hastily. 

"Y-yes pops— I mean sir!" He exclaimed, eyes wide at such a simple mistake. Wings narrowed his eyes, but waved it away, he figured his son already knew his place, and the fear alone was good punishment. Sans sighed in relief running his hand over his forehead to wipe the sweat away. 

 _'I can't stand that guy,'_ he thought bitterly, throwing open the door to his room and locking it behind him with a satisfying click. For a monster who loved to always talk about treating the lower class fairly, he sure did a lot of fear mongering with his sons. Hypocrite. He sighed. 

 _'No...no...I love my dad. I love my brother...I just hate this city, and the Dreemurs,'_ they're the ones that caused this. If it weren't for that damn gang, maybe his family would actually be happy. Maybe...maybe he would still have a mom...the angel of his old life that was now dead just like God in the modern era.

He sighed. Now he lived in fear of coming home to an angry father. Angry fathers were never a good thing to come home to. Technically, he could've left. Sans was after all, twenty five, but...he just couldn't. He loved his family, he really did. He believed if he held out long enough eventually everything would get better. Maybe one day he'd come home and his father would be happy, his brother wouldn't be constantly up his ass about the things he had to do. They could just breath. 

Sans loved family. He loved the idea of family. The idea you had somewhere to go when no one else would have you. Your family had you. Maybe he loved family so much because he didn't have a very good one. His dad was haunted by the war, and by the Dreemurs, and his brother seemed to revel in his shortcomings. He just wanted a family that laughed and joked. A good family. A family he could come back to on the holidays, but he knew what happened to good families. Good families were dirt poor, good families were torn apart by the wars... good families died. 

So he had to settle for what he had, and he allowed himself to be the scapegoat if it meant that in the ocean of toxicity, there could be laughter. Yet...

When he had the chance to be powerful, to be feared, without worrying if pops was gonna stop him, he reveled in it. Wings always told them not to let the power get to their head, but how could Sans not let it? Especially when he was barely even appreciated in his own home? No, he got a real high off of other people's fear. 

His mind returned back to Frisk, a smirk playing at his mouth as he peeled off his waist coat and slipped his arms from his suspenders. 

The way her little body trembled under his touch, the way her lip curled and quivered, and those eyes. He felt his soul thump faster at the thought of her, heating up a bit. The way those diamond tears fell upon her pretty little cheeks. He had wanted to push her even further, really get a rise, but even he knew his limits, besides...

Fear was one thing, but gratefulness? That was a whole other prize, and when she broke down in front of him thanking him over and over, he couldn't help but feel a tad triumphant. Her quivering voice was like music to his ears. Frisk, what a wonderful name. What a wonderful, beautiful, cute little name for a wonderful, beautiful, cute little woman. 

His soul burned inside of him as he kept thinking of her, he needed to see her again. He had seen her fear, and heard her trembling thank yous, but what of her smiles? Or her anger? He wanted it all. 

 

* * *

 

 "Are you sure you're alright?" Asked James as they sat across from each other in the small downtown diner, he was all tied up in his police uniform, Frisk having caught him on duty. Upbeat jazz bopped in the back from the radio as grey light streamed in. She was still shaken to the core. Her apartment torn to shreds, and when Chara came home, she had thrown quite the fit.

' _Those bastards! Well go on and invite them back over, so I can let them taste my kitchen knife!'_ When Chara was angry, Frisk could feel her entire body sinking lower and lower to avoid being the subject of her frustration. Surprisingly, Chara never blamed Frisk or her investigation.  _'This is just unacceptable. They have no respect for nothin'! Frisk... we've got to expose them, I'm done with them! I'm done livin' in fear of them!'_ she had demanded last night. Frisk remembered her words as clear as day. Chara was the only person that seemed to support her little personal mission, and she thanked her old friend to death for that. 

"No I'm perfectly fine, I just wanted to ask if you had anywhere we could stay. Chara and me that is," she said with a tentative smile. She knew she couldn't go back to the apartment, and James was really the only other friend she had. God that sounded so pathetic, but at least she knew she had real friends. 

James furrowed his brow in thought, but finally shook his head with a solemn frown. 

"I mean, I do, if you ladies were ok with sharing my bachelor pad with me, but I doubt that, uh...I wanna help," he murmured, Frisk giggling a bit at his joke. She furrowed her brow as she watched him dig for his wallet. He counted out some bills and she began to protest. 

"Oh, James, I couldn't take your money," she sputtered. James shook his head and was already stuffing the wads of fives in her hand. She sighed, trying to push it back, but he would have none of it. 

"Please, take it, I insist. Buy a hotel room for the night and I'll try to hook you girls up. I don't want you comin' home to anymore robberies y'hear...you've kept out of trouble right Frisk?" asked James, raising a curious brow. Frisk smiled awkwardly. 

"Of course I have," she lied. She definitely hadn't been keeping up with her promises. James furrowed his brow. 

"I sure hope so...I don't know how I'd take it if you were found dead...heh, I probably couldn't do anything 'bout that either...Chief Sulli..." he murmured. Frisk rose a brow, her interest officially piqued. He took a quiet sip of his coffee, eyes trained on a billboard outside, a subtle frown on his face, brow knitted and a little wrinkle on his forehead. She knew that look. Something was wrong.

"What? Chief Sulli what? What's eatin' ya James?" she asked, lowering her voice. One thing was for sure, she hadn't grown out of gossip. It was probably why she made such a great reporter, when she wasn't just doing show reviews of course. James glanced at her, checking over his shoulder to make sure no one was listening in on them. He leaned a bit over the table, his eyes wide. 

"Ok, but when I tell ya, you have to promise me you'll keep your mouth shut, ok? You can't go flappin' your gums about this one," he hissed. Frisk made an innocent and genuine cross over her heart before leaning in as well, resting her chin on her hands in anticipation. She always loved it when James would tell her something weird that happened at work. Police gossip was always strangely worthwhile, and disgusting, but that's what made it so riveting to her writer's heart. 

"Ok...Last night I stayed late at the station, doing extra work, y'know, so I could avoid the mess that is my room for at least one night...and as I was walkin' by the water fountain to get a drink, I hear Chief Sullivan through a cracked door. He was askin' about this Leviathan character, and sayin' somethin' about meeting her at Ghost Lake...crazy right? Like who goes to Ghost Lake in the first place? That's what really got me interested..." Frisk zoned out when he mentioned Leviathan.  _'Leviathan...Leviathan...where have I heard that name...Adam's!'_ her eyes lit up a bit at the remembrance. Suddenly, she realized James had just given her the next piece to her puzzle. 

"When's he meetin' her!?" she barked, a bit to enthusiastically, from the screwed up look on his face. She smiled sheepishly and sat back. 

"Well didn't ya hear? I already told you he was meetin' that monster at twelve exactly," he said, raising a suspicious brow. Frisk laughed nervously.  _'You're gonna blow your cover Frisky!'_ she scolded herself. She remembered something he had said. Ghost Lake. She shuddered at the thought. She knew Ghost Lake. Everyone did, even though no Human had seen it, unless they were an unlucky soul who got on the Dreemur's hit list. That's what the rumors were. Ghost Lake was known for being a dumping ground, and she was sure if anyone ever went deep diving, although she didn't know why they would, but if they did, they would find countless corpses struggling to swim back to the surface, a perpetual grimace of pain and panic etched on their slimy, rotten faces. Those bodies were covered by a thick layer of fog that sat on top of the water, and sunk to the bottom of a twenty mile deep fissure. Ghost Lake was an awful no man's land, no one went to Ghost Lake unless they were suicidal.  _'What does that make me then?'_ she thought, and she knew there would be no turning back. She had a lead, a good one at that, and she wasn't about to let some scary wives tale get in her way. 

"Right, sorry I didn't hear that part," she admitted. James rolled his eyes playfully. 

"Figures. I should probably get goin'. Chief will get mad if I ain't workin," said James as he began to leave a tip. Frisk glanced to the clock on the wall. Ten thirty!? Already!? She snatched her purse up, still weighed down by the documents, which she hadn't parted with. 

"Yeah, me too. I'll call ya when I book the room, and also...your Chief seems like a downright dirty man," she said firmly. James sighed and nodded solemnly. They both had the same fears about this meeting, well somewhat, Frisk was still elated that she had gotten a lead, but that didn't distract her from the fact Chief Sullivan, a man who should've been helping good and honest folks was right there by the criminal's side. It was sick. James only smiled sadly and ruffled her hair, before letting her slide past him and out the door. 

She made a beeline for the closest subway station, she knew she didn't have much time to spare, and the faster she got to Ghost Lake the better. She had a lead, and not just some name like last time, this time, she was going somewhere. The thought almost scared her. She needed to be careful. 

 

* * *

 

Sans sat in his brother's cherry red Cadillac, the outside caked in snow. Old blues wound about from the radio, walking about cross roads and deals with the devil. Outside, snowflakes danced in the headlights and street lamps of Snowden. Despite it being ten forty in the morning, Underground, it was always dark. 

He glanced out of the tinted window, pulling a cigar from his jacket. Papyrus had wanted to stop by Snowed Inn, a charming hotel ran by two equally charming sisters, Charlotte and Mayabell. They had an agreement with the sisters, the Gasters wouldn't charge them for being on their side of town if they kept a room booked for them for absolute free for the brothers to use for whatever reason, whether it be torture, interrogation, or a simple getaway. Room 268. Sans knew it well. 

He took a drag from the fat cigar, red smoke swirling around him as he puffed it out, he sniffed in the scent of roses the cigar brand was popular for. It helped cover up the smell of gunpowder and blood he could never seem to wash off. He smirked when he saw Papyrus leave the hotel. He liked to talk to Charlotte, poor old Charlotte, woman tied down with five kids at age nineteen, while the man who knocked her up took a train to California. Papyrus was fond of those kids though, he liked to play games with them, but most of all, his brother was fond of Charlotte. So every time they went on jobs like this, Papyrus would demand to stop by the Inn and wish her a good day, he usually made her something too. Sans truthfully, thought it was bittersweet. Bitter because no man carrying a torch for a pretty dame should have to worry about not seeing her again. Sweet though because when Papyrus was around Charlotte, he lost that cold and icy scowl that always scorned his face. He became his old self, before the gang war, before he needed his guard up twenty-four seven. Despite Sans thinking his brother was sweet for crushing on a girl, he couldn't help but tease him relentlessly. 

He licked his thumb and put out his cigar, he knew Papyrus hated him smoking,especially in his car. Papyrus was right proper every second of his life. He never drank, he never smoked, and he never cussed. He spoke with a vocabulary that made people squint. His suits were always ironed, and he knew every knot and way you could tie a tie. He never seemed to get blood on him and he was always polite, even when he was being threatening, which...was a bit more intimidating. No one else called their victim sir while they beat him to a pulp. No wonder pops loved his youngest son the most. He didn't even hide the fact he had a favorite. Papyrus was a good little kid who would do anything and everything he was told without asking a damn question, as long as it was a superior telling him to do it. Sans...well, Sans had been told many times he had no respect and no regards for anything. He couldn't count the lectures he got on his hands. Sans resented his perfect brother, his perfect brother who towered over him despite being three years younger. So when he got something he could hang over his little brother's head, he did it til he had picked it dry. 

"So how's Charlotte, she kiss ya this time?" asked Sans, a wicked grin on his face. Papyrus clenched his jaw as he slid into the driver's seat, a red blush surfacing to his face. Sans's grin grew wider at the sight. 

"Of course not, she isn't a harlot Sans, she wouldn't just kiss me, the mere fact you would even suggest such a thing is disgusting...have you been smoking in my car?" asked Papyrus, trying to change the subject. Sans glanced around and sniffed in, smelling the smoky scent of roses. 

"Uh, no, that's just my cologne," said Sans with a wink. Papyrus rolled his eyes, but didn't push it. 

"And for your information, I just told her to have a good day and gave her a plate of my famous Spaghetti," he said with a curt nod. Sans rolled his eyes playfully, smiling softly at the gesture. His brother could be very thoughtful when he tried. 

"Of course you did...she'll fall for ya one day, I mean, you are after all, the Great Papyrus," he said, holding his hands up in a mock toast. Papyrus glared at him as he started the car, but Sans could tell from the way his chin pointed up that his brother felt pride at the nickname. 

"Well...I hope you're right," he mused as they drove down the frozen cobblestone streets, snow swirling about. Sans turned down the music almost instinctively. He glanced at Papyrus with a warm smile. He liked these moments. They were few and far between, but they filled him with warmth, and made his soul flutter. 

"But, I couldn't do that to her, what if I went to a job, and never came back?" he asked as they came to a stop light that washed the two skeletons in solemn red. Sans furrowed his brow, his permanent grin faltering just a bit as the car purred in idle anticipation. 

"Huh...well, unlikely-"

"Sans, let's just drop it. It is unimportant, and rather silly we talk about love lives. I will not be filled with wishful thinking," barked Papyrus. Sans grimaced and looked out the window, his hands itching to reach back for his cigar, but he stopped himself, rubbing his femurs instead. Those warm moments never lasted long. 

Outside was his sanctuary, a blue brick speakeasy, a large vertical neon sign that spelled  _-Grillby's-_ in brilliant pink and orange cursive. He could hear the jazz from the car, and smell the mustard like a bloodhound. He almost thought of just leaving the car, leaving the mission, and drinking. Let the bass guitars thrum in his soul so he could stop worrying about this damn thing. So he could escape. However he knew if he did that he'd be in more trouble than he was already in. The last thing he needed was Wings dragging his ass out of Grillby's. That would be embarrassing for both of them. 

The car was filled with a hazy green light and it slid back into motion. He watched Grillby's fade away in the whirling snow, sighing as they turned took a turnpike to the freeway, merging with about three other cars, a lonely feeling passing over Sans at just how empty the road was. It was like the underground was in a constant state of three am. Something about it was nice however. He enjoyed the loneliness of the freeway. 

The onslaught of snow shut off immediately as they entered Tunnel Cascada, the car speeding up a bit as it slid down the slope, lights flashing as they passed rhythmically, syncopated with the soft drum beats of the blues. 

**_"On my way to Hades, on my way to hell. I've been prayin' for an angel, but no one hears me wail,"_ **

"You've got to be kidding me," murmured Papyrus, pale red brake lights glimmering on his bone white face. Sans looked up as they began to slow down. It was an inconvenient place to put a subway station, and it caused a lot of traffic jams. He sighed in annoyance as the car purred to a stop, the two brothers watching as the black taxi cab in front of them pulled into the station. Sans watched as monsters filed out of the subway, and the monsters waited clambered in on the other end. He glanced at the clock that hovered over the small station. Eleven Thirty. They would have time. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

"Taxi! Oh come on!" cried Frisk as she tried to wave down the cab, but it drove right on past as if she wasn't even there. After transferring onto another subway, she had began to notice how big everything was compared to her. Her feet had barely touched the floor, and these cars were twice her size. She began to notice the odd looks monsters were giving her, whispering under their breaths. Frisk knew she wasn't the tallest woman, but this was insane. She felt like she had been knocked back by a few ages. She lowered her hands subconsciously, sure she looked like a little girl.  

"Need some help ma'am?" asked a soft, southern voice. She jumped a bit, whirling around to face who had addressed her. Her eyes roamed up, coming to rest on a goat like face that towered over her. His fur looked soft, a nice creamy white, except for two black stripes on the opposite halves of his face. By the silk blue waist coat, and only slightly wrinkled grey dress pants and shirt, she could tell he was a wealthy monster. She noted the strings tied around his neck, connected to a ten gallon hat that rested on his back. He was strangely charming, especially with the way he smiled, his pearly white fangs deadly but cute, in a way, and so were the sharp horns that stuck from his head. She could tell he was young too, his baby blue eyes sparkled unlike any other person she had seen in this city, and when she looked down, she noticed he was carrying a large leather suitcase. Ah, of course, no eyes that sparkled like that could be from the city at all. 

She blushed, a bit embarrassed at the fact he had noticed her making a fool of herself. 

"Oh...uh..." she might as well accept the offer, or she would be late and miss out on the biggest lead she had found yet, "Yeah! Could you just hail a taxi for me? That'd be a real treat," she said with the most charming grin she could muster. He smiled back and flicked his hands, looking after a black cab. She noticed all of the taxis were one color, and they all had the same logo.  _Ferryman Transportation._ Odd, but then again, nothing about monsters really made sense. Finally, one pulled over and the monster opened the door for her. She smiled a bit at the politeness and slid in. 

"It's been awhile since I've been in Ebbot,I had no idea humans were startin' to come into the Underground. Ain't that somethin'? Looks like we'll have to resize a few things," he mused with a chuckle. Frisk giggled awkwardly, her eyes widening when he sat beside her. She hadn't been planning on sharing the cab, but, he  _did_ stop it. Besides, he wasn't the worst monster to be stuck in a car with. At least  _he_ hadn't sneaked up on her like...she shuddered. Like that skeleton in the alley. No, this monster wasn't the worst person to get stuck in a cab with. She snagged onto something he had said and furrowed her brow. He hadn't been in the city? How was that? She thought Ebbot was one of the only sanctuary cities for monsters. He seemed to catch onto her thoughts and he chuckled. 

"Where to?" asked the cab driver and Frisk leaned over, the driver completely shielded by a black window, hiding him from view. She whispered her destination, before looking back at this new monster who was smiling at her. 

"I've been livin' at the sister city in New Mexico ma'am. Well it's more like a big town. I can't remember the actual name right now, I usually just call it the Ruins cause it's built around these old forts and stuff, you know? I'm coming down to visit my family and help them with the business. They've been havin' a bit of troubles, and every ounce of help, well... _helps_ ," he rambled. Frisk smiled. That's right, there were two Sanctuary cities, that's probably where his more southern accent came from. She began to grow a bit more curious about him. 

"Oh? New Mexico? What's that like?" she asked. He smiled his charming and radiant smile. 

"Oh it's wonderful. I go to school there, and I help around a ranch. I got this one horse named Flowey, he's a blondie, and the damn thing eats anything he can get his teeth on, especially flowers, hence the name. New Mexico's got the prettiest sunsets, they're just like in the advertisements. One day, you ought to hop on a train and visit, what's your name? I hate bein' strangers with nice folks for too long," he said. She chuckled. He was so sweet! She felt all her guards fall around him.  

"Oh, well my name is Frisk Sawyer, I work for the Ebbot Daily," she informed. His face lit up. 

"No foolin'! So you're a journalist? Ain't that somethin'. Well, Howdy Frisk, you can call me Azzy," he said with his signature smile. She couldn't help but smile right back. He warmed a room with those baby blue eyes of his, and that smile was as bright and kind as the sun on a spring morning. She felt so lucky to have met such a charming young man, his positivity leaked into her, and she began to forget about her troubles. 

"Howdy!" she exclaimed. The two had a good giggle, before they both sighed in unison. The cab exited the tunnel, and the patter of rain began to pound on the window. She spared a moment to look outside, it was completely dark besides being mid-day, which boggled her mind. She had no idea where the rain was coming from, but as soon as it hit the ground it splattered with brilliant blue. Cyan flowers lined the roads and sidewalks, growing relentlessly despite the concrete jungle. The houses were in a sweet french colonial town home style, and the lamps glowed with what looked like fireflies. Compared to the bleak, grey and drab world of the Surface, the monsters had style, and it lifted her spirits, as did Azzy. She found she couldn't stop smiling. There were a few historical looking buildings, and even a zoo mixed garden. There were parks everywhere. Waterfall was a gorgeous district. Jazz bands clustered in the cobblestone streets that bounced from rain induced potholes. Music lit up every square they passed. It was absolutely enchanting. The houses fell away to a pier and a bridge that the freeway branched onto. A large black lighthouse stood at the coast and her breath was taken away. Her stomach began to roll with unpleasantness, and the smile she once had was quickly wiped away. 

There it was...Ghost Lake. It was just like the rumors, vast clouds of thick fog covered the surface, and the only light was the eerie spill from the Lighthouse. The dread she had so easily forgotten soon resurfaced and she frowned. 

"Is it true? Are there really a bunch of bodies in that lake?" asked Frisk as she stared out the window. She didn't see Azzy frown. 

"Is that what they're sayin'?" he asked, a bit quieter than usual. Frisk glanced back, seeing his brows furrowed in thought. She shrugged and sat back down in her seat. 

"Well yeah, just gossip I s'pose. It does put off a creepy vibe though," she said. Azzy smirked playfully and he shrugged nonchalantly. 

"I guess so," he said, sitting back in his seat and tapping a rhythm on his lap. Frisk glanced back out the window as they drove over the Lake, she squinted as she saw a light amidst the fog, it sat on the shore and glowed with eerie green light. That must've been the warehouse. According to the rumors, it was the only working building on that dock, on the Hotland side no less, which was probably why Leviathan was there. Everyone knew about the gang wars that happened in waterfall, they were shocking, and they shook the mountain like an earthquake. She had been seventeen when that happened, and she thought the shockwaves would topple her house and kill her in it. It was terrifying, and somehow, the Dreemurs had lost. How did a family as powerful as the Dreemurs crumble like that? It had certainly toppled any gang relations at the time, and now every crime family was paranoid the monsters that went for the Dreemurs, would eventually come for them. They were right to be afraid. 

"Well...this is my stop," she said as the car slowed near the pier on a lonely bus stop. Azzy glanced out the window, which was starting to glow from the brighter red lights of Hotland. 

"Hm...you sure?" asked Azzy, raising a concerned brow. Frisk nodded and began to unbuckle her seatbelt. 

"You bet! Thank you for helping me Azzy! You are a delight, and I was happy to meet you!" she said as she threw the door open, sliding out. This time, she remembered to grab her purse. Azzy smiled and waved her off. 

"Ok Ms. Sawyer! It was a pleasure meetin' you, hopefully I'll see you again once in a blue moon, you take care of yourself now," he called. Frisk smiled and waved, jumping out of the cab as Azzy closed the door behind her. She watched as the cab drove off, a small, fond smile glowing on her lips. Maybe one day she  _could_ catch a train and ride to New Mexico. What an adventure that would be.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

She turned and began to walk to the pier, slipping past an electric fence that was obviously sized for monsters, and didn't take snoopy humans into consideration. Fools. She pranced through the tall grasses and cattails that grew in the muddy field, the field that the last of the fog also haunted. The perfect cover, if only it wasn't so eery. The warehouse grew closer and an old, dilapidated billboard seemed to stand out of the fog. It had a rotting picture of a beer mug being drank by a big brown bear, the words - _Big Bear's Brewery-_  in faded bold letters. It sent a shudder down her spine. She had always detested drinking, and the old abandoned building sent chills down her spine. Nothing but the faint glow of Hotland, which radiated such heat and smelled a bit like sulfur lit her way. Of course it was like trying to see with nothing but a faint red light, not very effective and the dark ate it up. It was like hell was on one side of her, and the River Styx was on her other side. Her heart thundered in her ears, but she pushed through her fear.  

She didn't have to crawl, the grass was so tall it was like walking through a corn field. A bit unsettling, and the way her heart thundered almost made her want to turn back, but she was  **determined** , and she wasn't about to give up. Especially not when was already waist deep in itchy grass and ghost like fog. 

She came to the edge of the field, staring directly at the door to the old brewery. Her breath hitched when she saw a monster out front. It was a buff bimbo, a horse monster with a fish like tail that held him propped up like a sea lion, and she assumed he was a guard, 'cept he wasn't guarding anything, he was staring a window and flexing his muscles. Maybe she could sneak past him, the door was cracked open after all. She hesitantly began to creep out of the weeds clutching her purse. She began to remember what Faolan had told her, and she remembered Doug. He could only see movement, that would be a handy trick.

She tiptoed almost comically towards the door, her heart thundering in her chest, she was surprised it hadn't alerted anyone of her presence. The door squeaked, and the horse froze, still staring at himself, which she thanked all her stars for. She looked up, her eyes widening when she saw none other than Doug, the huge wolf standing right there, a fat cigar hanging out of his teeth. He looked directly at Frisk and she began to shake from strain, caught in a hunched position. It took all the muscle in her body to keep her from moving even an inch. He didn't even notice the horse, who kept flexing in the window. Her breath was shaky, not daring to move, heeding Faolan's advice. Don't move a muscle, and the goof wouldn't notice you. He shrugged and walked right past like nothing ever happened. Before the narcissistic guard could notice her, and as soon as Doug was completely turned away, she darted inside of the door, her heart pounding so fast she thought she would have a heart attack. 

"Huh?" she heard the guard mutter, and she had to stifle a giggle.  _'Ok Frisky, so far, everything is goin' peachy'_ she thought with a nod. SHe glanced around, trying to get a feel for her surroundings It was completely dark, except for a blue light that stuck out haphazardly from the wall. It washed her in blue, and blinked slowly like a cat winking at its prey. She shuddered and began to creep down the hallway. 

The hall split into two, a small staircase walking over a hall of big giant beer vats and pipes. They all had a metallic sheen, glittering with blue. She glanced up at the staircase, seeing a single white lamp in the distance. She began to hear the murmur of voices and her blood ran cold. 

 **"Undyne'll be here with that bull Sullivan in around three minutes,"** said a feminine voice soaked in sugar. She furrowed her brow and looked around.  _'Undyne...who's Undyne? ...Is that Capo Leviathan? Undyne Leviathan?'_  She couldn't go up the stairs, so the obvious choice was to hide with the Vats. She wound her body through the pipes, which wasn't hard due to her small size in a monster's district. Once she found a good spot to stop for a moment, she pulled out her journal and added the full name.

 **"Cheer up darling, that doesn't mean we have to put up the game,"** said a deep and gruff voice, it sounded almost fatherly, if it weren't for the fact it was laced with a puff of anger. She made a point to watch where she stepped, winding her way through the pipes and large vats that were hot to the touch. Odd, if it was an abandoned brewery, what were they brewing in these?  _'Maybe they still use it Frisky, ain't that hard to put two and two together,'_ thought Frisk, and she rolled her eyes at her own stupidity. She glanced up, now directly under the hanging lamp. She saw the outline of four massive shadows, and a table. 

Frisk flinched as she heard boots stomp on the metal floor. Three pairs of boots to be exact. She clenched her jaw and swallowed her anxiety. 

 **"Good afternoon Ms. Leviathan,"** puffed the male voice from earlier. There was a chorus of barking that shook Frisk's body. It was one thing hearing just a regular old dog bark, but a  _monster_ bark made her head spin and her heart bounce. 

 **"Spare it Dakota,"** ordered a sharp female voice that demanded respect. It wasn't laced with sugar like the other woman, it was curt, and made Frisk's shoulders straighten as if she were in military school all of the sudden. She furrowed her brow, straining her eyes as her neck craned up to watch what would happen, to over hear anything. 

 **"Now let's cut to the chase, right Mr. Sullivan?"** uttered Leviathan, _Undyne_ Leviathan. She winced at the name Sullivan. It had been just as she feared. Damn police. Damn Sullivan. This is probably why he called off the investigation. 

"Right-o! Heh heh...so we know the deal right? I've got some of the finer rifles from the armory for your organization, now hand it over," said Sullivan. Her eyes narrowed and she looked back down at her journal, writing furiously. She froze when she heard a groan of metal in the distance. From the way the monsters and policeman hushed, their shadows stiffening, it wasn't normal. 

"W-what was that?" asked Sullivan. Frisk felt her breaths coming in short gasps as another groan was heard. One of the smaller wolves shot up, snarling. 

"I'll go check it out," he growled. SHe recognized that voice, it was the other wolf from the Conway house that had come with Doug! 

"Good thinking Leslie," huffed Dakota. Leslie...what an odd name for a man. Then again, monsters were a strange entity,and she wasn't one to judge. Her heart thundered with adrenaline and excitement.  _'Just don't get caught, ok Frisky?'_ she reminded herself as she scribbled the names in the dim light. 

 **"Wait a minute..."** murmured the woman and she sniffed. Frisk felt her blood freeze and she looked up. 

"What darling?" asked Dakota. The woman sniffed again, and a growl emanated from her. Frisk swallowed her nerves. 

 **"Something smells...familiar,"** she said. Frisk paled and she squinted, making out the silhouettes of giant wolves, a fish like woman, and in the corner a coat rack. Her eyes widened when she saw a glimpse of indigo.  _'My coat!'_ she thought frantically.

 **"Well, do what you mutts need to do,"** ordered Undyne. Frisk felt her heart drop as Doug and Dakota both glanced below them in her direction, Dakota taking a deep inhalation.  _'Shit! The fucking coat, fuck!'_ she cursed. Dakota snarled, his eyes catching her and he leapt towards the stairs. 

 **"It's the reporter!"** snarled Dakota.

 **"Don't let her leave!"** ordered Undyne.

"Shit!" cursed Sullivan. 

 _'Run! **Run!** ' _cried Frisk, her heart galloping a mile a minute as her legs took off in a terrified dash of adrenaline. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Room 268 is a direct reference to the room Gaster sits in during Undertale the game! So just a cool little easter egg for ya there. WHOO what a chapter. Cliffhangers! Azzy! Charlotte and Papyrus! Charlotte is the hotel bunny just by the way. 
> 
> If you liked this chapter, which had a lot to unpack, make sure to leave a comment and tell me your thoughts. I love me some feedback! Thanks for reading!!


	4. Bringing A Pen to A Gunfight

 ~[Why Is Everybody Picking On Me](https://youtu.be/RmR6DC7cgpo)~

 

 

 

 _'Oh my God, oh my God,'_ cried Frisk as she sprinted through the vast hall of pipes. It's like they got tighter and tighter the farther she went. Her lungs burned, her abs aching with sharp, twisting pain as she climbed and fumbled through the dark warehouse. She heard another loud groan, and then a crack. Her heart was sent into a spiral of terror, especially when she heard that thundering bark again. 

"The snitch is headin' for the garage!" called Dakota. She came to a chain link fence that separated a boardwalk and the vats. Large disk like lights hung from the giant ceiling, and buzzed like a mosquito who wouldn't leave you alone.  She gulped and looked around, her eyes snagging on a tear in the fence. She dove for the hole, squeezing through, making sure she held onto her purse for dear life. She seethed as a metal link scraped across her calf and tore her dress, but paid it little mind. She glanced behind her, they hadn't followed her through the hallway, which made sense. 

She yelped as a pipe exploded above her, the bullet bouncing and falling to the ground near her feet with a threatening twinkle. 

"Damn it I missed!" growled Doug. 

"Watch where you shoot that thing!" growled Dakota. He sounded close, and Frisk turned seeing the giant white wolf only a few yards away from her. She squeaked, he was huge, and had a big bushy black mustache below his nose that  _almost_ hid his sharp, long fangs. She whimpered and took off in the opposite direction and he vaulted after her. Her eyes widened frantically as she heard a woman's shriek. Dakota skidded to a stop, looking up, Frisk taking his stumble as an opportunity, and sped up with a new burst of speed. 

"Darling!?" he called. Frisk began to notice it. There was smoke... _red smoke_ that began to fill the warehouse. She glanced behind her, seeing that Dakota was no longer tailing her. She raced up a staircase to the third floor, checking the doors. She needed to find  _something_ that she could take with her. She wasn't going to leave empty handed, even when she was terrified out of her mind.  _'Thank God for whatever is causing this smoke,'_ she thought as it began to fall from the ceiling and act as a cloak. Seriously, where was this coming from? She paled as she heard the echo of gun fires. Rapid. Sharp.  _Loud._ She found she was losing her breath, her heart pounding, her lungs begging for air as she came to a slow. She began to try doors, most of them locked. She looked around and began to pound on one of the doors that stood out from the rest, two windows standing at it's side. She looked around. 

The smoke she had thought would be her friend was quickly becoming her enemy, she could barely even see her hands in front of her face, and she began to choke. It was then she realized what was going on. They were being smoked out, and she was trapped inside. Her lungs screamed for fresh air as the smoke pressed at her nose and mouth. She coughed, gasping for clean air, her breaths becoming heavy.  _'I've got to get out of this garage,'_ she thought frantically as she could feel her skin burn a bit from the touch of smoke, and her lungs began collapsing. She gasped frantically for air, her eyes darting back and forth, looking for some kind of exit. She looked up at the window and narrowed her eyes, fumbling for anything on the wall she could use, her eyes tearing up as she choked. She could feel her head getting light from the intake of smoke. 

 _ **POW**_ \- A bullet flew past her with a harsh whistle. 

Frisk jumped, a small and choked scream escaping her as glass cracked, bullet lodged inside. The Window! She ran to it and slipped her foot out of her shoe, eyes beginning to itch and burn, blurring out as tears fell from the strain. She pounded on the window with the heel of her shoe, the glass shattered over her, and she fell, covering her face. The smoke immediately began to enter, and she took no chances, dusting herself off of any shard of glass. She wiped any shards left on the window to the floor, taking a few deep breaths of the fresh room and hoisting her leg up, her vision coming back with the return of fresh oxygen. She hauled her body into the room. Frisk tumbled down, keeping low to the floor as she remembered the old fire PSAs. She looked up as she took several deep breaths, seeing the red smoke collect on the ceiling. She looked at the broken window and clenched her jaw. She looked around, just as she thought, she was in an office room. She saw another window that overlooked the lake and she smiled in relief. She would have an escape. 

Frisk raced to the window and, using all the strength she could muster, glancing up as the smoke began to fall again, she jerked the window open with a grunt. The smoke filtered out and she hunched back over on her knees, a victorious smile on her face.  _'Good thinking Frisky,'_ she thought proudly. As she looked around and fumbled for the desk. She sat down and began to cough, rubbing her eyes tentatively as she began recovering from what could've been a disastrous black out. If she was going down, it wasn't going to be from smoke. She opened the desk with a jerk, and she suddenly remembered when she was seven and going through the headmistress's desk to find a doll James had made for her. She certainly felt that small again compared to the size of the furniture.

She blinked, and pushed the memory away. She began to search through paperwork, her eyes narrowed as a few of the documents were written in that same code. Those were probably important. She put them on a stack and went through some more drawers. She found some yellow paper at the bottom of a stack of binders and pulled it out. It was written on furiously, the handwriting a bit messy and jumbled, but she could read it. 

_\--_

_~~Rosewoods~~ : didn't pay back loan. // 3:00 am - Icarus Capon   
_

~~_Lafayettes_ ~~ _: bad deal. // 5:16 pm - Grayson Douglas_

_Emersons: stole money - pending - Grayson Douglas_

**_~~Conways~~ : broke contract. // 11:06 - Marcus O'Blook_ **

_\--_

 

Frisk stopped reading, jerking up, her eyes wide. She immediately began to stuff the papers in her purse. Marcus O'Blook. That must've been the man that killed the Conways! She glanced back down at the paper and she felt a shaky breath leave her. There was a murder  _pending..._ which meant they had more on their list. She had to warn the Emersons, whoever they were! She...She had to get this paper to James! 

Frisk leaped up and went to the open window that the smoke trailed out. Below her was the fog of Ghost Lake, she couldn't see a damn thing! She grabbed the chair from the desk, heaving it with all her might to the window so she could climb out. She got up on the seat and began to climb out. She looked around when she heard fire alarms. What was going on? She quickly began to inch out of the window, her feet searching for something to step onto. She could barely feel a thin ledge, and with a wheeze she put her weight onto it. Her feet struggled to hold on as she began to cling to the outer wall, red smoke billowing from the window. She could hear the soft lull of water below her and she gulped, beginning to zip up her purse and all it's pockets as best she could.  _'Don't jump, don't jump are you insane?!'_

...Frisk jumped out of sheer desperation, praying the water underneath would be there at all. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 After the Brothers had set off the smoke bombs, having put them inside of the building, Papyrus waited at the only open exit. Sans went through the building, checking to make sure no one had escaped through another route, and also, to start the fire and burn this damn place to the ground like they should've done ages ago. 

Sans sauntered through the building, the hazy blue light turning the red smoke a dark purple. He could breath it just fine, of course, when you had no actual lungs, it was a lot easier to stand in a smoking building. In fact, he enjoyed it almost, but it did burn when he was in for too long. It was ok though, it only slightly burned, like being somewhat close to a fire, so he could handle it. 

He lazily carried a Tommy Gun propped on his shoulder a bit cockily as he walked. A mutt lunged for him, a small little wolf with a long neck. He slung the gun down and fired, easily gunning the mutt down before he could even bring his pistol out. Sans kicked the body, his grin turning to a stiff grimace. What a waste.

He teleported up the stairs with a flash, watching from behind as Undyne disappeared into the smoke with a damn policeman no less. Of course. He held out his hand, his magic searching for Undyne's soul. He saw a faint blue glow. 

"Fuck!" roared Undyne, and gun shots fired. Sans cackled at the chaos and held up his gun to shoot. He heard a  _whoosh_ and dodged by a hair as a billy club came swinging down on him. He grabbed the billy club with one hand, and let go of Undyne's soul.  _'Fuck,'_ he thought bitterly. He turned to see who was attacking him, growling when he saw that damn Moll bitch, Dorothy. Her eyes widened at the sight of him so close, and she whimpered, she knew her mistake. 

"No...I'm sorry, wait," she croaked hoarsely. He grinned, soul thumping joyously at the open terror. He held out his hand, her soul flashing blue. She went flying up, and the white she-wolf howled in horror. She was nothing but a silhouette in the red and purple smoke, her soul glowing a dark navy blue. He grinned wider and held up his gun, his adrenaline pumping through his soul and marrow. 

"No please!" she gasped, Sans scanned her body, seeing a small bump on her stomach and his eyes widened, his grin faltering. Wait... was she pregnant? _'Fuck...fuck! I can't do that! Shit!'_ he thought frantically as she began to cry.  _'Oh no, please not the water works,'_ he silently begged.  

"Dorothy!" cried a man, Dakota. He knew him well. Sans clenched his jaw as he heard the white wolf huff and puff in the smoke, his choking loud and satisfactory, or, it should've been if Sans didn't care so much! He growled in frustration at his softness. 

"Please...Mr. Gaster!" he gasped, Sans immediately pointing the gun at Dakota, snarling. Dakota dropped to his knees, and in the smoky light from the lamp, he saw a glimmer of tears. He couldn't do this!

"Please, have mercy!" cried Dakota. Sans furrowed his brow, looking back up at Dorothy as she began sobbing.  _'No don't do that!'_

"Shut up! Shut up both of you!" They were horrible people! He remembered how they treated folks. He glanced down at the baby bump and clenched his jaw. They were young then...the young made mistakes...should he spare them?  _'What if Pops found out you let them go? Think about that, you'd get thrown to the streets, not a nickel to your name,'_ he reminded himself. He grit his teeth. 

All it took was a little flick of his finger, just a little gesture to end them for good. He stared down Dakota, his grin growing just to hide the fact he was shaking, his whole body was quaking, and he would've broken down, if it weren't for that grin. Dakota's eyes widened in realization that he was staring at death himself, and right then, when the look came in his eye...Sans pulled the trigger, no hesitation.

Dorothy shrieked, her sobs growing ugly as she watched her husband yelp and fall...limp to the ground. Sans's eyes widened. 

"Damn you! _Damn you to hell!_ You horrible  _horrible_ demon! How could you!?" she screamed, choking in the smoke. Sans felt his legs shaking.  _'Finish. The. Job.'_ the voice of Wings seemed to invade his mind and he narrowed his eyes. He tried to grin, tried to hide his disgust in himself, and his own tears. Who was he? He stared Dorothy dead in the eyes, his eye sockets completely dark, two big black holes. He fought back a choke of guilt as he fired, watching as she writhed, her body filled with lead. His hand shook and he dropped her. 

".... _FUCK!"_ he snapped, slamming his hand on the wall as the married couple at his feet.  _'You're so fucking disgusting, they were gonna be a family, they could've been a good family,'_ Good Families die. Good families always died. Sans clenched his jaw and he slammed the wall again. God damn it. He didn't have to do that, he could've let them go...he was a coward. 

His soul plummeted and he could feel angry, hot tears spring in his eye sockets.  _'No, I ain't wasting my tears on this. This is just what happens, it was either me or them, if I spared them, they probably would've bumped me off, don't feel bad about this Sans,'_ he scolded himself. He couldn't help it. He itched for his cigar, and this time he snatched it up, lighting it desperately. As the lighter snapped on, the fire sputtering a bit, he caught the sight of a small, indigo coat. He furrowed his brow, letting out a puff of red smoke that joined the fumes surrounding him. It was a small little thing, no monster could fit in it, and it was definitely not the policeman's. Only a woman would wear that.  _'Who lost their coat?'_ he thought, grabbing it. He glanced at the tag. Whoever they were, they were nervous enough to write their name on the tag. 

His soul fluttered, and the tears he fought back evaporated as he smiled.  _'Frisk,'_ it must've been fate. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 _ **SPLASH**_ \- Frisk plummeted into the lake, the water breaking her fall. She felt the air leave her lungs, her skin burning from the impact, but she was still alive. She quickly swam back up, sloshing through the water frantically as she searched for somewhere to climb up. She began to realize her leg was stinging, and not from the impact of water, but she paid little mind to it, a bit more worried about the items in her purse, like her journal, and the documents, getting wet. She made it to the shoreline, climbing up, her dress and purse dripping with water.  _'I just jumped into Ghost Lake...'_ she thought, eyes wide. 

" _I just jumped into Ghost Lake!_ Oh my God they're right about me, I'm insane!" she cried, laughing a bit.  _'I'm a maniac!'_ she thought frantically, and she began to laugh. She laughed until her ribs began to hurt. She had just infiltrated a warehouse owned by a mob, while a deal was going on, and then survived a smoke out! She jumped out of the building!  _With evidence!_

"Oh my God, I'm a brilliant, maniac. An absolute cooc!" she said, doubling over in her wicked and triumphant laughter. 

There was a rumbling growl and she froze, shooting up. Out from the shadows crept a giant monster. Her eyes widened to the size of golfballs, her face paling. There were six red eyes that burned into her, and she realized this monster had three heads. She choked as it stood up on its hind legs, and compared to the building, it could look into a second floor window. She whimpered, clutching her purse as if it would save her.  _'I take back everything, I'd rather die in the smoke!'_ she thought frantically. 

The three headed monster barked, and leaped for her. She screamed, diving to the ground, her heart racing. Her blood spiked with adrenaline, and she scurried to her feet, trying to race around the dog that there was no way she could outrun. Despite this fact, she sprinted towards the field, squeaking as the small heel on her shoe snapped under the force, and she tumbled to the ground, groaning with frustration. The wolf snarled and vaulted off of the ground, and in two bounds, he was leaping on top of her. 

Her hands shot out without a thought, and snagged a branch. With a snarl, Frisk swung it onto the large face that was bared to bite. She lodged it in it's jaw, squirming away as the other two heads began to bite at the branch to try and unwedge it. She couldn't run...she _had_ to fight this thing! She didn't know how, and the possibility of winning were slim...but it was the only way she could escape. Frisk's hands grew shaky as she began to unzip her purse. She had to have something sharp in here, something she could fight with! She whipped out her favorite fountain pen, heart skipping a beat a bit with excitement, terror, and disappointment. The wolf barked, and Frisk clenched her jaw, baring it as the dominant head threw the stick away, snarling. Another head perked up, looking after the stick in a very dog-like manner that almost made her forget the immediate threat. 

She snapped out of it when the dog stood again and charged her. She whimpered, stumbling back before with one hand he snatched her up off of the ground. _'NOW!'_ She shouted, squeezing her eyes shut, and with a spurt of adrenaline, she drove her pen into one of the dog's eyes. He yelped and dropped her, Frisk hitting the ground with a sharp thud. Pain shot up her butt and feet, but Frisk rolled over, crawling away. She panted heavily, her heart racing so fast she thought she would have a heart attack. The wolf howled with pain, scurrying back as it pawed and scratched at itself, but she had drove the pen deep, and there wasn't a chance he could just rip it out. 

Frisk stumbled to her feet and raced into the tall grass, her breathing sporadic, her eyes wide. She looked down at her hands. She did that...She stuck a pen in someone's eye. When she slowed down and doubled over, surrounded by thick, itchy grass, tears began to form. She never thought she'd do something like that. Of course she had been driven with necessity and fear, and fear always drove people to do things they never thought they'd do, or do things they never wanted to do in the first place.  _'I have to write,'_ she thought, beginning to dig out her journal. She didn't care if it was dark, but writing helped her, it was a way she hid from these emotions, how she threw them out. Chara sang and wrote songs, James smoked cigarettes...everyone had a coping mechanism. Frisk pulled out her journal. It was damp, everything was just a bit wet, but James had bought her this purse, and he had made sure it could withstand a few things, like rain or...jumping into a lake. She was thankful for James. 

She whimpered when she realized that her pen was stuck inside of a monster's eye. She crumbled, and began to cry.The stress of tonight began to get to her.  _'I've almost died today...three times...I jumped out of a window, I was suffocating...I stabbed someone. Who am I!?'_ she thought frantically, hugging her knees to her. That's when she felt it, slick and wet on her calf. Her eyes widened and she smelled her hand. Iron. Blood. She was  _bleeding_. 

"Oh my God!" she cried, and her body began to rack. What would James say!? What would  _Chara_ say!? ...How was she going to get home in the first place? Panicked thoughts raced in her mind. She was going to be stuck here, bleeding, without a pen, a journalist's weapon in this world, literally, and figuratively, and with a wet purse. Sure, the documents were readable, in fact they were only kind of damp, but what about the money?  _James's money_. They were still useable. A sigh of relief escaped her. How big was this field? She couldn't see over the grass, and she began to feel claustrophobic.  _'I've got to get out of here,'_ she thought.  _'I've got what I need, I'm still alive...it's time to go...I have to book for Chara, and I need to replace that damn pen,'_ she listed off what she needed to do silently as she started forward, and her soul burned with  **determination**. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

_\--_

_~~Rosewoods~~ : didn't pay back loan. // 3:00 am - Icarus Capon   
_

~~_Lafayettes_  ~~ _: bad deal. // 5:16 pm - Grayson Douglas_

_Emersons: stole money - pending - Grayson Douglas_

_~~Conways~~ : broke contract. // 11:06 pm- Marcus O'Blook_

_~~Bakers:~~ cons. // 5:30 am - Grayson Douglas_

_Harrisons: three weeks late - pending - Icarus Capon_

_~~Ozanichs~~ : refused to pay. // 9:45 pm - Marcus O'Blook _

_\--_

 

 

 

 


	5. Try the Third One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God, I'm so sorry for the slow update my dude! School has been very hectic and I've been scrambling! Anyway, here it is, chapter five!

~[Let Me Know Where I Can Go To Save My Soul](https://youtu.be/S5IEt63qOSI)~

 

 

Frisk sat in the hotel room with Chara and James. He had visited them after work again. They had been here for about two days. They were playing cards, well, Chara and James were, she was sitting in the corner leafing through her the yellow pages, lost in thought. When she had gotten back to the hotel room and checked in after her day in the Underground, people were giving her strange looks. She was bleeding, her dress was dirty and torn and her hair was stuck to the back of her neck. She had only one thought in mind. Find the Emersons and the Harrisons before it was too late, before they were bumped off. She couldn't have another Conway case. 

"What's eatin' you Frisk?" asked Chara. Frisk furrowed her brow and looked up at her two best friends that sat lounged on the floor, cards scattered between them. 

"Oh...just trying to find this family, the Emersons," she murmured. James rose a curious brow. She glanced at him and smiled a sad, knowing smile. Chief Sullivan had been dealing guns for God knows what. Maybe he had a family to protect too, or maybe he was greedy and corrupt. She went with the latter. 

"James, Chief Sullivan doesn't have a family, does he?" she asked. James tilted his head and shrugged. 

"If he does, he never talks about them," he said. Frisk nodded, it was as she thought. James sighed and returned to the card game, his brow set in that signature look of distant and unsettling thoughts. Chara caught it too. They had been friends since childhood, each finding their own road, but none of them losing touch. After all, they were really all they had in this world. 

"I'd rather not think of that man," he uttered, Chara flipping a card down on her set, a large smirk growing on her face. James pursed his lips and studied his cards, but his mind was set on the worries of his career and he groaned. Frisk returned to the yellow pages. 

Finally, she found a match. The Emersons...and about five other Emersons in a consecutive line up. She clenched her jaw, stifling a groan of frustration. How the hell would she find this family? She could just call every single Emerson, but she doubted any of them would give her the answers she wanted. Still, it was worth a shot. She stood up and gathered her purse. 

"Where're you goin' Frisk?" asked James, slapping a card down on his set. One spade, two spade, three spade, and now four spade, whereas Chara now had a heart Queen, spade Queen and clubs Queen. Frisk only smiled at his question and slid past the two on the floor. 

"Telephone," she said simply. Chara grunted in understanding, but James only grew more confused. She waved him off and left the little room, a wave of grey light hitting her, as well as the stick of cigarettes. She scrunched her nose up. She hated motels, but they were all she could afford really, and they weren't as noticeable. Then again, motels were a lot more controlled by the gangs.  _'It's ok Frisk, those monsters can't come for you in Trentino's side of town...but that didn't stop them from coming for the Conways...'_ her thoughts warred with one another as she briskly walked down the flat. She trotted down the metal stairs that clanged noisily under her flats. 

"Hey!" croaked an old man who sat on a chair below the staircase. She jumped, stumbling back, her mind growing frantic at the sudden greeting.  _'Are you kidding? Stand up straight! No one can hurt you if you look strong!'_ she reminded herself. This case had really shaken her. The old man's skin dark and so wrinkled, his lids hung over his eyes. His craggly old lips parted and he laughed. 

"Don't worry, I ain't gon' hurt you, come here," he said with a shaking, friendly smile. Frisk furrowed her brow. She had grown up on the streets, and she knew when something seemed shady. Besides, she was in a hurry.  _'Do it...he might have a clue, and if he does pull anything, just look at him, he's too old, look at how his hand shakes, just appease the man for now and he won't bother you when you go back to your room,'_ she reasoned. Finally, with a sigh, Frisk walked to him. 

"What do you need?" she asked. The old man smiled and held out his hands, she was hit with a rancid smell, he had been living on the streets all right, but she wasn't rude enough to express that, fighting to not scrunch her nose. 

"I'm an old blind man, but I can see...my soul was touched by a monster's and I am tormented by visions. I see a dark aura around you...give me your hand and for two cents I'll see into your darkest fate," he said, and she saw now that below those hooded lids, his eyes were milky white. She clenched her jaw. She found his words to fill her with uncertainty and a bit of icy fear. A dark aura? What did he mean by that.  _'You know what they say, curiosity killed the cat...but satisfaction brought it back...we should do it,'_ she urged herself on. With a sigh, Frisk held out her hand.  

"Well...that's some party trick, better than shaking a can I guess. Alright old boy, read my future," she said. The old blind man clasped her hand and fell silent, and she began to feel a burn enter her skin. He let out a shaky breath and Frisk furrowed her brow in confusion, shuddering as he threw his head back, his teeth gritting. She wanted to rip her hands from his, her fingers stinging at the touch, it was as if she had planted her palm on a burning stove. 

As quick as he grabbed her hand, he let go, and she thought she saw a glimmer of a tear. 

"Well...what did you see?" she murmured. The blind man's jaw trembled and he balled his hands into fists. 

"I...I see a flicker of candle light and a paper written in blood...I hear the cries of children, but they are drowned by a haze of watery abyss. I see flashes of red smoke, and red fire...and the shadow of a goat, his demonic hand holding out a golden flower...I look up...and there's a storm, it's on the horizon..." he breathed. Frisk felt her blood run with ice, his telling was so vivid she could perfectly imagine it. She shook a bit, her soul chilled. 

"Do you know what it means?" she asked. The blind man hung his head. 

"I know nothing from nowhere about the meanings of the visions, only that you best not go down the road you're goin'...A storm is coming...that's all I can say, you best stay inside and wait it out, things about to get crazy," he uttered. Frisk narrowed her eyes.  _'Very helpful, another naysayer...I don't know, if everyone is telling me no, maybe I should listen? No...I'm on the right track, and if I unearth hell, then God will be forced to do somethin' about it,'_

"Thank you Mr...?"

"Memphis," he replied, smiling again. She smiled back despite the fact he couldn't see. 

"Thank you Mr. Memphis," she said, digging into her purse. He fumbled for his can and held it out, smiling with satisfaction as the coins plopped into the can. He looked back up at her, and his milky white eyes seemed to darken. Frisk pursed her lips and turned away, making her way to the motel office.

"Missus...I know you won't stop, try the third one," he said. Frisk turned back to ask him what he meant, but she stopped herself. She had already bothered him, well...the other way around. Her heart was racing from the reading, she didn't want to be around him longer than she had to. She brushed herself off as she entered the office. She glanced up at a bald, chubby man who sat snoring on his office chair, a little fan whirring and spreading his pile of papers across his desk and floor behind him. She sighed, reality hitting her again, the mundane settling back on her as she turned to the payphone.

Frisk dug through her purse, her breath hitching when she realized she only had one nickel! She had given the other two dimes to Memphis!  _'Oh God, look what you did!'_ she snarled inwardly. She fought the urge to charge back out and demand her two cents back, she couldn't do that though. He needed it more than her anyway. She looked back down at the single dime and whined a bit in frustration. She needed to call six different families that were all named Emmerson!  _'Try the third one'_ she froze as she remembered the cryptic phrase. She could only call one family, and she was desperate.  _'Oh God, please be them!'_ she thought as she pulled out the yellow book and went to the page. Third one, third one...

_\--_

_Emmersons.................617-555-0143_

_\--_

Her breath hitched and she slid the nickel in. She only had five minutes, and she only had one chance to get this right. Besides, what if someone tapped her calls? She doubted that, but her paranoia knew no bounds. After all, they knew who she was.  _'It's the reporter!'_ had yelled one of those monsters when she had been there. Her leg hurt in phantom pain and looked down, sparing the scar on her calf a glance. She shook away her doubts and slid the numbers in.

Frisk glanced over as the manager snorted, turning over in his chair. She swallowed her nervousness as the phone began to ring it's dull and rhythmic ring. She leaned her head against the pay phone, humming along with the buzz.  _'Please answer, please answer, please answer,'_ she begged. There was a small clutter on the other end and she perked up. 

"...Hullo? Mrs. Ryan Em...uh, Emmerson, who's calling?" answered a young woman on the other end, she had a sweet voice, one that held secrets and stammered over them like a blind person in a messy room. Frisk latched onto the voice and she swallowed. She had to choose her words carefully or else her chance would be gone.  _'Please be them,'_ she begged to whoever was in charge of fate. 

"Yes hello! This is Frisk Sawyer from Ebbot Daily, I was callin' on behalf of a...a story, yeah, and I was wonderin' if you could help me out," chirped Frisk, putting on her best smile. She knew that if you smiled, your voice sounded much happier, and when you were a reporter, or a telephone operator, happy voices went a long way. The lady on the other end went silent for a long moment, small murmurs on the other end that she supposed was quiet talking. 

"You're Frisk Sawyer? You wrote that paper on the Suffragettes didn't you? I loved that collum, it was ab-so-lute-ly the bee's knees, a shame it got pulled. Uh, uh, you needed  _our_ help!? Why, what's goin' on? My...My husband has been weary on the calls as of late and- uh, what's that? No Isaac you can't have a slice of cake,- Sorry 'bout that...um...Ms. Sawyer, I'm a big fan of your work, really," rambled Mrs. Emmerson. Frisk smiled with pride that someone had read her work. Mrs. Emmerson seemed like a good lady, hopefully she was the right one. 

"Mrs. Emmerson, I really need to ask you some questions about a case, it's kind of...really important," said Frisk, her voice was urgent, and her feet swayed left and right as she eyed the sleeping manager. 

"Oh! Oh...uh...why don't you stop by then? I really hope we can help you, or at least, I hope  _I_ can...my husband doesn't really like suffragettes...come by for lunch maybe? Let me give you my address!" she said. Frisk's heart leapt and she held the phone on her shoulder as she got a pen and paper. She grabbed a random yellow notebook paper sitting on the side of the messy manager's desk and a fountain pen from a jar. The man snorted, turning again and she froze, her heart pounding. She looked down at the fountain pen and rose a brow. She glanced back up, before taking the pen and paper to the wall. 

"I'm ready," she said curtly. 

"Good, my address is nine-four-zero, Hennison lane in Downtown Ebbot, just a few blocks from the courthouse," she said. Frisk smiled as she hastily scribbled it down, mouthing the numbers and street name to herself. Frisk paled a bit. From what she remembered, down town was in a constant state of gang battles. It was war zone. Right now she was sure the Valentines were fighting the Deans, if she knew her gossip correctly. If this family was in some sort of contract with the Dreemurs, the most powerful and feared gang in the city, then it was a bit obvious as to why. She sighed, her brow furrowed in sorrow. This was no city for a family. 

"Thank you so much Mrs. Emmerson, and uh...if it wouldn't hurt...could I learn your first name?" asked Frisk, trying her best to sound happy. She could almost feel the woman smiling with pure joy, and it radiated through the phone. 

"Of course! I'm June...it was such a pleasure talking to you Frisk...I...really," she replied, her voice bubbling. Frisk couldn't help but smile, this woman made her fears wash away. 

"Pleasure's mine, I'll be there by five, hopefully you help me solve this," she said, smiling sadly. She was desperate for help, and also to warn this family. She couldn't stand another Conway murder. From what she heard they had a little boy, and June was young. It would be a shame to get bumped off so unfairly. Frisk hung up the phone and glanced at the sleeping man. She rose a brow. 

"Tired old boy," she murmured, pocketing his fountain pen with a small smirk. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

There was a constant crackle of soft fire, both from the oil lamps that hung on the navy blue walls, and from the bartender himself, who cast purple light on his guests. Shadows danced where light couldn't reach, and a big fan whirred over head ever so softly to feed the flame. In the right corner of the speakeasy was a little stage, illuminated in neon pink light, and a soft blue glow from the monster who stood their. She was a fine little thing, a petite blue lantern hanging from her head, and her puffy lips hid her sharp fangs. She sang a siren's son, and everyone was absolutely enchanted with her and her sweet, sultry voice. Even the bartender, who's purple flames flickered solemnly. 

Everyone was enthralled, except for Sans, the large skeleton sitting alone at the edge of the bar. He stared down at the little indigo coat that he clutched tightly in his sparkly, ring covered hand. There were small patches of white and blue here and there that disrupted the darkness. It made his grin flicker, this must've been the one nice coat she had, she certainly wasn't giving it up. 

With a hesitant jerk of his hand, he brought the coat to his nasal cavity and sniffed in.  _'God, you're so fucking weird,'_ he thought to himself in disgust, but he inhaled the scent despite his shame. She smelled sweet, which only made him grin fondly.  _'I'm going goofy over some random human, what's wrong with me?'_ he thought. He remembered her sparkling brown eyes, her perfect lips. He sniffed again, trying in some strange way to discover more about her through this...jacket, picking out the scent like some creepy detective. He rolled his eyes at himself, but he couldn't stop. Something about the sweet lavender and spice of cinnamon just calmed him, gave him comfort. 

He needed comfort. His body was still shaking from the night before, he should've been over it, and really, he shouldn't have been in the speakeasy. He should've been at the Snowed Inn. Room 268. Beating the shit out of their captive. Poor blind fuck. He felt bad for the guy, having been snatched by Papyrus of all people was enough to scare the hell out of anyone. That son of a bitch never even had a chance. He was better off dead, especially when Papyrus had Sans hold the guy down so he could rip out the guy's teeth just in case he had cyanide capsules. He had about two from what Sans had seen.

Sans just couldn't take it. He needed to get at least buzzed to continue this dirty job. He glanced down at the coat and sighed, trying to refocus his thoughts onto happy things, but all he could think of was how much a fuck up he was. He killed a couple, and their unborn baby, and he had wanted so badly to spare them. He wanted to find  _Frisk_ but he didn't even know where to start. He knew she had lied to him when he asked where she lived, and, just look at him, of course she would.  _'If I'd've known she'd get in my bones like this I wouldn't have scared her, oh God what's wrong with me?'_ He thought bitterly. He stuffed the jacket in his backpack. He needed to see her again. Maybe seeing her would give him comfort, give him a small sliver of happiness in his God awful life... just like this damn coat. He almost laughed at himself.  _'Wait...the coat...'_ he thought, his eyes widening when he realized he might've been onto something. 

Sans stood up with a jerk, causing Grillby, who was just walking over, to flinch. Sans chuckled and straightened his tie, shooting down the last bit of mustard to get a good buzz. He grinned as the spices burned his soul and with a shiver of pleasure he turned. 

"Where are you running off to Sans?" asked Grillby, Sans knew the soft, crackling voice, that sounded like a dying fire, very well. He shrugged. 

"I need to ask a guy about a coat," he said, popping his collar. Grillby rolled his blistering white eyes. 

"Oh yeah? When are you gonna pay that tab?" he asked. Sans chuckled wryly and pulled out his wallet, he slapped down a one dollar bill and grinned. 

"How's that? Come on Grillby, you make enough money, and technically I'm your boss," Sans reasoned. He knew that Grillby didn't actually mean it when he asked for the tab to be paid, but it was fun for the two to poke at each other like so. Grillby's purple fire turned a shade of annoyed blue. 

"Technically, you're not. Don Gaster is more my boss than you are little man," spat Grillby. _'What does he mean by that!?'_ Sans howled with laughter, to hide a grimace that was growing on his face. He hated when people mentioned his father. Sans knew that Wings was technically more powerful, but it did get to him. Grillby knew it did, and the two were good friends, so it just felt like a slap to the face. _'It's all in good fun Sans, it's fine,'_ he berated himself, his grin growing larger to hide his scowl. Sans didn't want to freak out at the imp for mere words, so despite his anger boiling, he merely laughed again and pat the imp on his shoulder. 

"Little man...good one," he wheezed, the patrons sunk lower in the seats, and the siren began to grow quiet, but Grillby waved at her to continue. The two friends stared at each other before Sans grinned and turned away. 

"I'm gonna scram now, have a good day Grillbs," he murmured. Grillby chuckled nervously and waved him off, the skeleton lumbered to the stairs and jogged up, a scowl growing on his ever permanent grimace.  _'He didn't mean nothing by it, idiot, just let it go. We're gonna find Frisk, and you don't need to be in a bad mood for that meet, got it hot shot?'_

"Got it..." he murmured as the cold air of Snowden hit him right in the face. He squinted as the shards of billowing ice slapped him, hanging his head to avoid the wet splinters. He knew how he'd find her too. The mutts had the jacket, which meant they knew her scent, and if they had cared enough about her to keep her jacket with them, then that meant they knew where she lived. That meant  _Doug_ knew where she lived. He grinned. Damn mutt was gonna solve his little problem. He grinned, a smug twinkle in his sockets. He'd find Frisk. 

 

  

* * *

 

 

Frisk arrived to the small home, Chara at her side. The house was small, and dull yellow, weathered away by the years. An old model T sat in the driveway, which was cluttered by a radio flyer red wagon, and a couple of bikes with flat tires. A wind chime greeted them, singing softly as they walked up onto the concrete porch. 

"You didn't have to come with me," murmured Frisk. Chara glanced at her and rose a teasing brow. 

"Are you kidding? This is important, isn't it? Besides, I didn't have anything to do today, and these little investigations give me a burst of life. Everyone likes a thrill now and then," she said curtly. Frisk smiled and squeezed Chara's shoulder affectionately. 

"Well thank you," she said. The two smiled at each other, before Frisk turned and rang the doorbell. There was a soft mew at her feet and the two women looked down to a see a large, fluffy cat weaving between their feet. Frisk smiled and knelt down, scratching it's ears as Chara rolled her eyes, stepping away with distaste. 

The door swung upon, and the two were greeted by a bright eyed young woman, probably younger than them. She had golden blonde hair that curled and cascaded down to her back, and bright baby blue eyes. She was a pretty sight, and Frisk understood why she had been married so young.  _'A shame, she should've lived a little...'_ she thought. She shook her head of the thought. She's been around Chara for too long. 

"Hello Ms. Sawyer...and um,-"

"Ms. Moore," said Chara, lifting her chin as she studied the woman before her. June lowered her head and blushed a  bit, nodding curtly. Frisk smiled and gave the woman a hug. 

"What a lovely home you have, and the cat is absolutely a darling," she said, looking down at the little puff ball. June smiled and stood back. Frisk felt a strong uneasiness fill her. This family may be in danger, and this woman would suffer the same fate as Mrs. Conway. She couldn't let that happen! 

"Well do come in, I cleaned up as much as possible, and I made coffee, would you like some?" she asked. Chara glanced at Frisk and grinned a bit, Frisk raising a brow at her friend. 

"Poor woman deserves a night on the town," she murmured. Frisk rolled her eyes, laughing a bit. 

"Yes June, that would be great," she said, closing the door behind her. In swooped a little boy, his arms spread wide as he held his airplane. He looked three at least. June ran in behind him as Chara yelped from surprise. June grabbed her son and swung him around. 

"I told you to play in your room Isaiah!" she wheezed. Isaiah, a little boy who looked completely opposite of his mom, with dark black hair and dark brown eyes, much like Frisk, pouted at the order. Frisk smiled at the boy with fondness, as Chara rose a cold brow. She didn't like children very much, and she wasn't an animal person either, unlike Frisk who was a complete softy to both. 

"Fine," he grumbled, running back down the hall. June smiled sheepishly and went back to the kitchen. Frisk looked around, glancing down at the documents and her journal. She pulled out the yellow notebook paper, the hit list. She needed to make sure this was the right family, and something told her it was.  _'Try the third one.'_ Those words still sent her into a shivering fit. 

"So, June, what does your husband do for a living?" she asked as the blonde walked into the room, bearing two cups of coffee, creamer and sugar stashed in the crook of her arm. They took a seat on the couch. 

"Um, he works at the factory," she replied simply, and a worried look crossed her face. Chara rose a brow and leaned in, stirring sugar into the black coffee as Frisk poured in heaps of creamer. 

"Which one?" she pressed. June glanced at Chara and grimaced a bit at the question. Frisk glanced back down at her purse, the questions itching her tongue, she wished so badly to just spew out her warnings, order the young woman to take her child and get out while she still could. 

"Solstice Industry, he's a driver for them," she murmured. Frisk glanced at Chara, who straightened at the mention of the factory, her eyes flashing. Frisk took out her journal and began flipping to a new page, leaving her coffee on the table, untouched. She began to write down the conversation, underlining the important parts. It was important to have everything written down, just in case there was something she might have missed.

"Solstice Industry is ran by Don Dreemur," murmured Chara, and Frisk also wrote that down as soon as the words were uttered from her mouth. June furrowed her brow, her face paling. 

"What exactly are you investigating Ms. Sawyer?" she asked. Frisk glanced back and clenched her jaw as she thought. How was she supposed to describe this? Chara waved Frisk aside. 

"A murder-"

"I don't know anything about murders!" said a frantic Mrs. Emmerson. Chara and Frisk rose a brow, glancing at each other. Frisk looked back, seeing June had stood up and went to the radio, turning it on as she tapped her nails. 

"We never said you did. They were murdered by the Dreemur gang, I know that's for sure, do you know anything about the Dreemurs? Your husband works for the Dreemurs doesn't he?" asked Frisk, standing up to face the woman, Chara taking her journal and writing everything down. June turned, tears in her eyes. 

"What are you going to do? My husband, he drives for them, and he came home with this bundle of money. He said we were going to leave this city...but he hasn't come home from work. He told me not to talk to anyone about it, but I'm scared. I'm scared he got caught, especially after word of these other families..." she whimpered. Frisk looked back at Chara, her eyes wide.  _'try the third one,'_ the words echoed.  _'I need to find that old sayancer,'_ she thought. 

"You and Isaiah need to get out of here, I was at one of their warehouses,-"

"-Wait, what?" interrupted Chara, shooting up like a bullet. June paled at the words and she stumbled a bit. 

"I found a hitlist, and I believe your family is on it," she stuttered, pulling out the yellow paper and shoving it in her hands. June read it, her eyes widening as she saw her surname in the pending list. The tears she had been holding back streamed out. 

"Oh my God... _Oh my God!_ " she cried, stumbling back. Chara swooped over to her and caught her before she could fall. Isaiah charged back into the room, holding his fist up. 

"Mommy! Are you alright!?" he squeaked, running over as Chara propped her back up, the poor woman's face red with tears. Frisk knelt down to the little boy and frowned. She wasn't going to lie to a child. 

"You are both in danger, your mommy is doing her best to protect you, isn't that right June?" Frisk stood up, squeezing June's hand. June nodded solemnly, her eyes squeezed shut. She looked like a child compared to the two women beside her. Frisk felt so angry and exhausted. How could they do this!? 

"Where am I going to go?" she asked, voice shaking with terror. Isaiah hugged his mother. Chara and Frisk looked at each other, searching for the answer in each other's eyes. They couldn't stay with them, that would be more dangerous. They had to find a place for them to hide.  _'...neutral territory..._ Adam's _!'_ thought Frisk, her dark eyes shimmering with hope. Yes! Adam would help them! 

"Do you know about the Eden? It's a speakeasy, completely in neutral territory, we know the owner personally, and he will help you," she said, her voice bubbling with joy at the sliver of hope she had for this mother and son. June caught the joy, and even Chara began to smile. 

"Frisk, you're an absolute genius," she breathed, and Frisk grinned with newfound glee. She'd save someone, even if it was just two people. The Dreemurs wouldn't be able to hold the grip of fear they had on this city. Not if she had anything to say about it! June wrapped her arms around the journalist and began to weep from joy. 

"Thank you, thank you so much! Frisk...can I ask a favor?" she whispered. Frisk nodded.  _'You can ask me anything June,'_ she thought, smiling. She had very little friends, and this woman was giving Frisk her full trust. 

"Please...tell me what happened to my husband...find my husband, even if it's his dead body, I need to know where he is," she whimpered. Frisk furrowed her brow at the request.  _'I'm sure he's at the bottom of Ghost lake...'_ she frowned at the thought. She nodded curtly. This woman deserved peace of mind, just like how the Conways needed justice. Frisk would give her that. Besides, she'd done crazier things in the past week, what was one more?

"Of course," she said. June pulled away and smiled sadly. She looked down at her son and nodded her head. 

"Get packing, we're going to the Eden, what's the password?" she asked. Chara shook her head. 

"Don't worry girly, I'll take you personally," she said, grinning. Frisk smiled at her friend as June hugged Chara. The two met eyes and nodded to each other. There was a mutual agreement that passed between them.  _The Dreemurs couldn't defeat them. They had **determination.**_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Marcus O'Blook was a funny old bird, he rummaged around the landfill in waterfall much to often, and he was infamously known for having lost his mind at age twelve. 

A ghostly guitar was strapped to his back as he made his way through the dump to find the old mannequin he liked to haunt when he was getting these flashes, and they haven't quieted down ever since the Dreemurs hired him as their personal Hitman, along with two others he tried not to hang around. 

When he reached the top of pitch black trash heap, he found it. He smiled in relief and swung the guitar from his back. 

"Hello old Bess, want to hear a song?" He asked. The mannequin went unspeaking, unmoving, unblinking. He narrowed his ghostly eyes. 

"Want to hear a song?" He repeated. Nothing. 

"Want to hear a song!?" Still nothing. It went like this most days. After the third tume he merely growled. He always tried, just to make sure she might've been real, but she was always just a mannequin who never spoke, never moved, never blinked. Marcus sighed. 

"I'll take that as a yes," he mumbled, tweaking the  tuners a bit and plucking the strings until he was satisfied, which he never really ws. 

Finally he began to strum, plucking out the chords with ease. 

 _ **"The voices tell me, I'm no good, at playing cards and playing fools,"**_ he sang the first lyrics, his voice a wail of anguish, like a wailing wind. Music had ran through the soul of his family line. His cousins were all musicians, Nathan loved Jazz and Swing, and Mason...he hesitated at the thought of Mason. He wasn't Mason anymore, he had to remember that. 

 _ **"I tell them I don't mind, that I'm not gonna back down,"**_ he growled, plucking the wrong string when he tried to push away the memory of his cousin. He nearly threw the guitar but he glanced back up at the Mannequin's dark beady eyes and he didn't, just fixed his mistake. He didn't want to disappoint her. 

 _ **"but the voices they all laugh and I cry out, I cry out...I cry out to the Indigo Blues,"**_ he sang, staring directly into the eyes of the Mannequin who just stared unblinkingly back at him. Maybe if he kept singing she'd magically come to life. 

 _ **"Save me, save me, Save me, I want to be saved, but they, play me, play me, play me, they play me to the Indigo Blues,"**_ he grew angrier staring into those soulless eyes. There was blood on his hands, she'd never come to life for him. 

 _ **"Indigo Blues, how do you do, I'm a fool for you, and I know it, I know it, I know it's true,"**_ he howled, and he could've sworn he saw a flicker of something in those eyes. He dropped his guitar and shook her. 

"Wake up old girl!" He cried. He trusted the mannequin with all his troubles, she knew him more than he cousins and she was so beautifully made. He would've been shamed to say he had fallen in love with an animate object, but he knew there was something there. No one else was there for him when Mason left and threw their family under the bus for power and riches, only the Mannequin. Nathan had immediately left him when he saw the ruin it had caused, and Marcus had been left fending for himself in a dump. 

"Wake up, wake up!  _Wake Up!"_ he screamed. He swiped at her face, but his hand only went through. He snarled and with a surge of hatred he possessed the mannequin. It sprung to life now that he inhabited it and he took control, only seeing red as he beat the mannequin with it's own hand. He didn't realize what he was doing, and in the surge of craze, he snagged a shard of glass from the pile and began to rip and stab at the Mannequin's too perfect to be real body, stuffing flying out. 

"You whore, you whore!  _You Whore!_ Why don't you ever just talk, why don't you move!?" His voice howled through, a voice straight from hell when haunting an object. He twisted the body this way and that until every seam ripped with a sharp tear. 

"I hate you, I hate you, _I hate you_!" He screamed, before finally the mannequin was so strewn and destroyed that he was thrown from it. He found himself sobbing. He looked back at the mannequin and gasped. No! What had he done!?

"I'm sorry..I'm so sorry," he whimpered. He clutched the stuffing, but it kept slipping through his ghostly hands. He gave up and hunched over his carnage. What had he become? He had never become this far gone until he worked for the damn goats of hell. As he wiped his eyes of tears and anger, he grabbed his guitar, staring down at it. Even in the landfill, where he thought he was the most sane, he couldn't hide from his demons.  

 

 

* * *

 

 

_I see a flicker of candle light and a paper written in blood..._

_I hear the cries of children, but they are drowned by a haze of watery abyss._

_I see flashes of red smoke, and red fire..._

_and the shadow of a goat, his demonic hand holding out a golden flower..._

_I look up...and there's a storm, it's on the horizon..._

_**A storm is comin'** _

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked that guys! We've got the blind sayancer Memphis, and Little miss June! Plus Marcus O'Blook :/  
> Do you guys think June will be safe with Adam? Do you think Memphis will help Frisk? 
> 
> Please leave comments! I love reading them!


	6. Searching for Indigo

~[You Had To Bid Adieu, Said You'd Never Love Anew](https://youtu.be/EOFA9kPQ_uU)~

 

 

"Hello Doug."

 

"Fug off you thupid cund."

 

"Aw, does your mouth still hurt?" 

 

"Fug you! And your fuggin' brodda." 

 

_**WHAP!** _

 

"Ahh, fug!"

 

"I'd watch your tone with me, you dumb mutt."

 

"Why? You're gonna off me anyway," 

 

"Oh not so fast... I have my own agenda for what I'm gonna do with you,"

 

"And what's dat, you fuggin' athhole?" 

 

"...What do you know about Frisk Sawyer?" 

 

"...I ain't dellin you shid-"

 

_**WHAP!** _

 

" _Fug!"_

 

 

"You better tell me what you know about her, or I'll jab out your eyes,"

 

"Do id, dey're already utheless," 

 

_**WHAP!** _

 

"You better start cooperating!"

 

"Why da fug do you wanna know aboud dat bith, huh? And whad'th in it for me?" 

 

"I'll make my brother go easy on you and move you out of the room."

 

"Very dempding...why do you even wand do know aboud her? Thee'th wordleth, thee'th juth a thorn in Mr. Dreemur'th thide," 

 

"Why?"

 

"Cauthe thee'th a fuggin' reporder thad'th why! And thee fuggin thnooped around in hith buthineth you dumb fug!" 

 

_**WHAP!** _

 

"What did I say about that tone?" 

 

"Lithen buddy-"

 

"I ain't your buddy,  _pal."_

 

"Yeah yeah, you wand the info, you lithen do my thid, goth thad  _bud?_ "

 

"...Fine, just tell me where she lives," 

 

"Doethn'd madder, you wouldn'd find her there anyway,"

 

"And why not?"

 

"Becauthe we drathed the plathe, thee long gone bud. Buth thee wath at our warehouthe...the nighd you fuggers addacked, tho, I'm thure thee'th dead, I wouldn'd know though, I wathn'd dere for long, righd bud?" 

 

_**WHAP!** _

 

"Whad the  _fug!"_

 

"She's not dead!" 

 

"Whadever you thay buddy, I'm juth delling you whad I know, juth like you dold me do, righd?" 

 

_**WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!** _

 

"Thop id! I'm juth delling you the truth!"

 

"I would stop talking then..."

 

"..."

 

"...Give me the damn address,"

 

"I'll do you one bedder buddy, I'll give ya the newspaper thee workth for, we wath gonna go there nexth, buth, we didn'th ged ta do thad now did we?"

 

"No...I got a better idea..."

 

"...Doeth id involve leaving this fuggin' room?"

 

"...It might, you work for me now mutt," 

 

"Aw fug, juth kill me," 

 

"No can do pal," 

 

"Fug...you thon of biftch" 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Doug growled a bit as the skeleton tugged at him by the leash he had forced him to wear, then again, it was better than sitting with his hands cuffed to a chair in a room that had an overpowering stench of blood, his blood. It was so overpowering, it had leaked past his nose blindness. Doug sniffed as he left the building, frowning when he smelled nothing but the cold on his wet nose. 

His mouth still ached, his gums stinging every time he shifted his mouth. He wished he hadn't been knocked out, then he could've just ended his life with those cyanide capsules, but, he was caught. He glanced towards the white, black and red blob that walked a little in front of him. He had been given a coat to cover how bloody his tank top was, but it was heavy, and his fur rubbed the wrong way against it. Still, he wasn't about to complain. The skeleton's punches were heavy and his stomach still ached from them. 

Why did the Gaster have to take him along for the ride anyway? And why did he want to know so much about that moronic reporter? He glanced over, all he could see was darkness, and feel the blistering cold on his face. He knew if he tried to escape right then and there, he'd suffer a fate worse than death. It wasn't worth it, and Doug...Doug had always been a fair weather fan. He knew what the Gasters could do, and he hadn't jumped ship from the Dreemurs because the Wolf Pack was all he had in this cruel world, it was the closest thing he had to family, and just a dysfunctional. He should've left the Dreemur gang a long time ago. Doug put on a smile and flashed his grin at Sans. 

"tho whad are we doin' bawse?" he asked trying his best to butter the skeleton up. He smacked his lips when he heard how the words came out. He hated being deduced to this, a little minion who couldn't pronounce anything correctly because of his lack of teeth. It wasn't like he had all of his teeth pulled, just all the important ones. His gums ached again with phantom pain and he inwardly groaned. Now he was a blind wolf who couldn't even speak correctly anymore. He was actually useless now...at least before he was captured he sounded at least slightly intelligent, now he was...this. Anger pooled in him, but he was smarter than o act upon it. If there was one thing Doug knew how to do, it was knowing when to sit back and smile, and comply. That's how he survived the Dreemurs, that's how he survived Undyne, and that's how he'd survive the Gasters. 

Doug wheezed as his neck stung with the sharp hit of the skeleton. 

"Ah, whad da fug!?" he growled, and Sans let out a cackle of laughter, which made Doug heat up with both embarrassment and anger. This son of a bitch. 

"I suggest not talkin', I don't want to hear your dumb ass voice anymore, got it?" growled Sans, and Doug gulped, nodding obediently.  _'It's all Jake, Doug. One day, you can blow this cracker stand and jump ship to Canada. Then you can live peacefully, the fresh air outta' do you good,'_ he thought to himself. 

He caught the whoosh of a door being opened, his eyes flicking towards the movement like they always did. He took it as his cue to get in, and he stooped down, holding out his hands to guide him as he sat inside. Sans closed the door on him and got in the front, revving it up with a low rumble of the engine. 

"Tho, whad'th with thith Frith chick?" asked Doug raising a brow. He caught the flicker of movement, and assumed Sans had turned to look at him. 

"For someone wearing a muzzle you sure are talking a lot," he grunted. Doug lowered his ears and looked out of the window, he liked driving in cars, he could see movement, and make out shapes, even if they were blurry. 

"...She's just someone I met, and I want to find her again, so you're gonna help me track her down. You're good at that right?" grunted Sans, and Doug could hear the sarcasm that leaked from his voice. Doug was useless to Sans in that matter. He was both smelless and sightless, two of a dog's most necessary senses stripped from him. He had been born blind, he could only ever see flickers of movement and faded blurry colors, but his smell was lost to a nasty addiction to cigarettes. Not even cigars, which would've been much classier. It shamed him. All a dog was, was his sense of smell. He was lucky that Undyne had held onto him, and it had everything to do with Dorothy coming up with a sob story about him and they kept him around as an extra brain. 

"Maybe you thould've capdured a dog who could thmell," he muttered. He caught a flicker in the corner of his eye and assumed the skeleton had looked at him. 

"We don't need that, you know how to find her. Where does she work?" he asked. 

"The Ebbod Daily," grunted Doug dutifully. 

"Which office?"

"thouth thide, Maryland Avenue." 

"Trentino Territory?" Doug only shrugged in response, he was getting tired of his voice, and his mushy words. it was Trentino's territory, and, although it wasn't his business, he knew that right now The Dreemurs and the Trentinos were in good spirits. Sans repeated himself, goading the answer out of the dog. 

"Yes, the Drendino derridory," he grumbled, sighing as Sans chuckled slightly. 

"Got it...do you know any of her friends or acquaintances?" he asked. Doug shook his head. 

"We didn'd ged thad far," he sighed, rubbing his eye. Sans grunted and they sat in taut silence. Doug almost dozed off, lulled by the warm heater and cold window he pressed his nose against, but the sharp snap of the skeleton's fingers shook him back, awareness erupting back to his mind like an unwanted explosion. He was so very tired. 

"I got it, The Eden, that's the last place I saw her," he said and Doug could hear the grin growing on his face. He didn't understand why the skeleton was so obsessed with finding this woman. It hit him that Sans may have had the hots for her. His eyes widened and he glanced out, if he ever escaped and got back to Undyne...they could use that to their advantage...he glanced back. He didn't have a chance of escaping, and he had always heard the people in Snowdin and Waterfall were happier. Maybe it was good to jump the Dreemur ship, after all, their defeat in waterfall and snowdin was crushing and surprising and if things kept going like that...

Doug didn't want to be on the enemy's side of the Gasters, he had to play his cards right...however he could use it as blackmail...in case Sans decided to pull anything on him, he always had this if he couldn't establish trust. 

"Then do the Eden we go," muttered Doug. Sans snickered, and with the roar of the engine, they sped out from the mountain, light assaulting all of Doug's senses. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 Chara, normally, tried not to involve herself in the personal lives of people. She found it irritating when others tried to involve themselves in hers. What was the use of it, when you could mind your own damn business? That's what had drove her away from her self righteous mother and father when she was young, and it was what drove her away from her adopted family. 

So when June asked her about her scar on their way to Eden, Chara felt a jolt of shock spit through her body. No one  _ever_ asked about her scar. Why would she ask such a question? Chara almost wanted to stop walking and leave them there and then, but she wouldn't be so uncivil. 

"Let's not ask questions that require trust and a long winded answer on such a nice day," she barked. It was the opposite of a nice day, the sky was covered in black smog, and they could smell rain on the air. June furrowed her brow, but nodded, a dark blush rising to her cheeks. 

"Oh you're so right, I'm so sorry, it just slipped out of mouth!" she exclaimed. Chara rolled her eyes. 

"I don't deny that," she grunted, but the icy feeling in her gut wouldn't thaw. They continued walking in silence, until finally they made it to the speakeasy. Chara went to knock on the iron door, crossing her arms as they waited. It was getting colder, despite her jacket. 

"Password?" asked a muffled voice from the inside. Chara rolled her eyes, now thrown into a bad mood. 

"The needle in the haystack is nothing compared to a body in the Indian Ocean," She recited. There was a pause, before the door scraped open. The man on the other side looked down at Isaac and narrowed his eyes. 

"Is this some sorta joke or s'omthin'?" he spat. June paled and looked down at her little boy. Chara put a hand on the man's shoulder. 

"They're not here for booze, they're here for Adam, now would'ya shimmy on outta' my way?" she said with a sickeningly sweet voice. The man gulped and moved aside for them, glaring at Chara from behind. June shuffled in, following Chara like a lost puppy as the two women and the little boy moved through the crowd inside, hopped up on illegal booze and drugs. June covered her son's eyes, racing after Chara as she seemed to move through the crowd like fluid. 

"Wait up!" she called. Chara popped up beside her and groaned with exasperation.  

"Let's ankle!  _Come on!"_ she grunted, taking June's hand and stomping and shoving through the rowdy crowd until they finally made it to Adam's office. Chara sat down in the back and dulled out the noise of the conversation between the mother and Adam. She had learned to do that when she was young. Adam never raised his voice, but the kid would get antsy. 

Chara spared a glance when Isaac's noise and whining had shut up, to see Adam bouncing him on his lap. She smiled slightly. That man could calm the storm faster than Jesus Christ. The way he handled Isaac made her feel a pang in her heart. It reminded her of her old family, she had ran away twice. She was a runner, and she felt ashamed she hadn't stayed and fought. But what was a girl supposed to do when she was surrounded by Monsters? She'd never fight one of those. 

"Medusa!" barked Adam after a long murmur that she hadn't been paying attention to. She stood up to face him, Adam putting the child down. The two walked over to a corner and Adam scratched the back of his neck. 

"If her family is the target of the Dreemurs, there's not much I can do, if I were to get involved in these kinds of things, the Eden wouldn't be neutral territory no more, now wouldn't it?" he asked, raising a brow. Chara gulped and looked at June. 

"Well you can't just leave them to die," she growled. Adam shook his head. 

"I never said that. I can take the child off her hands, and send him to live upstate with my mother to keep him safe. June and I talked about this already and she agreed to it. I need you to tell Ms. Sawyer that I do not approve of what she's doing, and I'd prefer not to be involved in it," he spat. Chara narrowed her eyes at him, wanting so badly to lay a smack across his face, but she wouldn't. Instead she nodded, grabbed her coat, bid adieu to June, before slowly walking out of the room. 

"I'll deliver the message," she said as she closed the door behind her, her fist curled against the knob, knuckles turning white. 

 

* * *

 

 

Chara left the club with a pool of sick dread in her gut. That disgusting man! She should've spit at him. She glanced over her shoulder as her eyes caught a cherry red cadillac that was parked in the corner of the shipyard. She rose a brow, narrowing her eyes as she watched the two  _monsters_ step out. A large skeleton and a wolf. Something about that wolf was oddly familiar...and her mind snapped to the night at the Conway's house. She paled and began to walk faster. 

The wolf turned it's stare and barked. 

"Whad you runnin' from?" he spat. It  _was_ the monster from the house! He was with a skeleton! Her mind put two and two together. SHe had heard the gossip about the new gang, how it was ran by Death, and she hadn't seen nothing like that skeleton. 

"Why don't you mind your own damn business Doug?" spat the skeleton, his voice deep and threatening. Chara's eyes widened and she quickly shuffled away until she was safe. The Gasters must've killed the Conways! 

 

* * *

 

 

_122415 1061617215-_

_6 524192 24 13242682442 31215 221812. 5121323189922 175616 20699 131817 1752 21211 611 22121815 412121 41524162`16._

_\---Adam_

 

* * *

 

 


	7. Back in Town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the unannounced hiatus! I am back and plan on staying for a little longer. Please enjoy this next installment!

[Ended with the Night](https://youtu.be/i6i4hKWYew4)

Back in Town

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

Asriel James Dreemur, heir to the Dreemur fortune of fifteen million dollars, had travelled all the way from Fort Violet Rock to Ebbot city. He had left his simple life as a ranch hand, and top grade business student to help his family in their struggles with their new rivalry. When he arrived he was welcome with open arms and tears. He had been missed. Yet he felt resentment towards him. Perhaps for having left in the first place. He was here though wasn't he? 

Asriel now found himself in the dim, golden dining hall of Mettaton's, the only five star gourmet restaurant in the Underground. And who to grace them with their presence but Mettaton's himself. Asriel sat stiff in the too comfortable red leather booth seats that enclosed around him. He longed for the ranch again, the horse stables and the open spaces. The city was cramped. 

"Azzy! Welcome back to the big city!" Said Mettaton in his charming radio voice. Asriel smiled his beaming smile, not alluding to his discomfort. 

"It sure is good to be back sir," he said, rolling his shoulders back as the air of confidence over took him. 

Mettaton was a larger than life figure. He owned every entertainment studio in the underground, even a couple of radio stations top side. He had four arms, four eyes and a bright smile that could blind the sun. His slick black hair was too shiny to be real, and his metallic body was so polished that he had to avert his eyes when the light hit. He noticed his nails we're painted a glittery pink. In fact, the only thing the metal man wore was pink. Not good pink either, bright hot pink and glitter. Tubs of glitter. He didn't understand how someone could wear so much glitter and so much pink. Asriel couldn't say he was fond of the style. Even his fur coat was bright pink. It was obnoxious. 

"Such a pleasant young man, you two surely raised him well," he said again. His voice was off. It sounded extremely feminine, but also extremely masculine. It was deep with strange womanly inflections. Asriel tried to not let it bother him. After all, Mettaton had been a family friend since forever. He just...never clicked with him. 

Mr. And Mrs Dreemur, Asriel's loving and doing parents sat on either side of him. Even though Asriel was tall, his parents towered over him, even while sitting. They looked much like him, just older, wiser, and more experienced in the life of Ebbot city. 

"Why yes of course, Mettaton, I raise children well," crooned his mother, Toriel. Asriel smiled at her. She had always spoiled him with anything he had ever wanted, and he wouldn't like when he said he was quite the momma's boy. She had cried so much the day he flew the coop to New Mexico. She hadn't let go of his arm since he arrived back home. 

"Yes mother...how is everything since IveI been gone?" He asked. Toriel's eyes darkened, and his father, Asgore, shifted uncomfortably at the question. Mettaton simply smiled. 

"Well things have been quite strained I'll tell you what, ever since your parents lost control of Snowden and Waterfall—" he blurted. Asgore shot him a warning glance and the robot immediately gulped down his words. Asriel's eyes widened. 

"How? I thought you had a strong amount of associates in that sector...what happened?" He asked. Asgore sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Toriel shifted, a large smile on her face. 

"Do we have to talk business at dinner? Our son is back from New Mexico! We should be celebrating his arrival!" She exclaimed with nervous excitement. Asgore smiled and nuzzled his wife. 

"Of course darling," he said sweetly, glaring at Mettaton out of the corner of his eyes. Asriel furrowed his brow. 

"I came all this way back to Massachusetts, the least you could do is give me the reason why. Your phone call was very vague, I was hoping we could talk," he said. Toriel groaned in annoyance. 

"Asriel haven't you missed us?" She whimpered. Asriel's eyes widened and he took her hand. 

"Of course I have mother!...although I did enjoy New Mexico very much...seeing you is always welcome mother," he said with a hesitant smile. The last thing he wanted was for her to become sad. She sighed mournfully. 

"Mettaton! How about you show my dear wife to the kitchen, Toriel, wouldntw you like to cook our dear son a welcome home pie?" Asked Asgore. Toriel's eyes widened. 

"I cantc believe I forgot! My apologies dear!" She exclaimed, shooting up. Asgore gave Mettaton a knowing look, which the robot returned. He lead Mrs. Dreemur back to the kitchen. 

The father turned to his son and chuckled. Asriel smiled wryly. 

"Always works...now...about my plans for you," he murmured. Asriel rose an interested brow, he nodded for his father to continue. 

"Do you remember Mr. Gaster? Ah, probably not. You were far to young," he said. Asriel furrowed his brow in thought. 

"No...no I remember Mr. Gaster, although I was far to busy with my studies to remember what importance he plays," said Asriel with a dismissive shrug. Asgore nodded. 

"Well, he was my weapons expert for ten years...then I dismissed him after he threatened my life. We had a falling out you see. He had wanted control over the Snowden area. I declined. He was a greedy man, Asriel... He and his sons attacked without warning just five years ago. I've been losing territory. In just one year they had taken over both Snowden and Waterfall. I fear they'll come for Hotland and the Historical District," he said. Asriel let this all sink in. He felt a lurch of anger in him at this Gaster fellow, for he loved his parents very much, despite hating the city, and when someone threatened his parents he made sure they payed for it. 

"So what do you need me to do? I'll do anything," he said. Asgore smiled with pride at his son's loyalty. 

"That's my dear boy," he said, sipping his red wine. Asriel reached for the wine bottle to pour his own drink, but his father stopped him. He went for his water instead. 

"The gasters make newer and more powerful weapons, besides just their general racial power...you know how powerful Reapers are," he said. Asriel nodded hastily. 

"You're a powerful prodigy...I know I equipped you with many powers when you were at your young age, and even though they were mostly to keep you alive...I know they've soaked you with magic," he said. Asriel winced a bit at the memories of his early childhood. He looked down at his chest, which still ached from time to time. 

"Yes..." He murmured. Asgore grinned and Pat his son's back. 

"I want you to lead an assault on one of their safe houses, show them your talent. Besides...you will be the perfect distraction for what I'm planning," he said with a sinister smirk. Asriel tilted his head, a tell-tale sign he wanted his father to continue. Asgore however, only took another sip of his wine and spoke no more. A long pause went between them, and Asriel understood he'd know no more of his father's plans. 

"Well alright, keep your secrets. I'll do it. Just tell me where to strike and when and I'll do it," he said with new determination. Besides, the faster this was finished, the faster he could return back to New Mexico, which was his ultimate desire. Asgore grinned. 

 

* * *

 

Frisk was making her way back to her motel room. The night was dark and she was quite chilly. There was no moon, and the streets stunk of cigarettes and garbage. That night she had gone back to her apartment to get some things of hers. She had collected a few of Chara's song books, a few more pairs of clothes and more money. Tonight, the thought that she would crack the code of this cryptic code filled her with  **determination**. 

As she entered the gate of the motel, she could feel a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. It was the same feeling the night at Adam's...

She forced herself to continue walking, the memory of those bright red pin pricks of eyes staring her mind's eye down. She wanted to get to her room and she wanted in now. She felt like as soon as she closed the door she'd be safe from whatever was out there. 

She raced up the stairs and fumbled with her keys as the red eyes in her mind grew bigger. 

"Come on, come on," she murmured, shoving the key in and jerking the door open. She slammed it shut, sinking to the ground. Why did this always happen to her?  _'Because you investigate murders that might very well be connected to the mobs,'_ her inner skeptic reminded her. 

"Oh shut up," she groaned. She rubbed her eyes and went to her desk. Chara had been gone all day...a small alarm went off in her mind, but she was sure her hot headed friend was just fine. That woman had survived a lot. 

She dug through her purse and pulled out all of the papers with the strange code. She placed down the paper Chara had found in the Conway home. She would translate this one first.

"So everything is in numbers...they could be using the number alphabet code," she murmured. She had also spent all day at the library looking up types of secret code, like Morse or Pigpen. This was definitely the number alphabet. She quickly got out a piece of notebook paper and wrote out the alphabet and the corresponding numbers. 

"Oh wow this is easy, how have I not understood this before?" She asked herself with a chuckle. She began to decipher with quite ease. She couldn't figure out what the small dots and lines meant, but she assumed they might've been numbers. She just couldn't figure out what they meant. As she wrote the letters down her eyes began to widen. 

"Wait..." She murmured as she quickly tried to translate the text. From the words she was now reading...had Conway been working with the Dreemurs? A harsh knock at her door startled her and she let out a small squeak of surprise. The feeling she had felt in the parking lot filled her again, and those red eyes invaded her mind once more. 

 _'Don't open that...'_ she thought. Slowly she stood up as the knock echoed throughout her room again. She shoved the papers back in her bag, before hurrying to her feet. 

"Hello in there," said an awfully familiar voice. She felt her heart race and she stumbled back, her ankle twisting and hitting the back of her desk. She yelped, clasping her head in her hands in agonizing pain. 

"You ok in there?" He asked again.  _'how did that creep find me?'_ she thought. All that came out however was another pained moan. 

"I'm comin in, doll," said that skeleton of her nightmares. She whimpered, turning away, her whole body freezing up from terror. 

 

* * *

 

 

\--

_-:.SOULS WERE COLLECTED TODAY MR. DREEMUR, I REALLY HOPE YOU'RE GONNA HOLD YOUR END OF THE DEAL AND GET ME THAT --------* K, I COULD REALLY USE IT._

\--

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok wowza. So Asriel now has marching orders, and Frisk has cracked the code to the Dreemur's cipher, but most importantly, Sans has found our Leading Lady. Leave your thoughts, predictions and wondering below, I love reading them! Thank you all!

**Author's Note:**

> You made it to the end! Rad. I'm gonna try to update as much as possible to get the first chapters out, but eventually it'll be a weekend thing once it's reached at least ten chapters. 
> 
> If you liked what you read, feel free to comment, or leave a kudos. Feedback is always appreciated.


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